Imaginary
by OmbreDesDieux
Summary: "There is no peace in wishing and no stars left to wish upon." -Raphael Hamato. * * * She was his one and only love, but she's gone and no amount of fighting, anger, or revenge can bring her back. 10 years later, he still walks the razor's edge of sanity, yet somehow, old enemies are conspiring again. Will they destroy him utterly, or bring him hope?
1. Wicked Wishes

**Wicked Wishes**

He'd seen this before.

Though the events of that night had been imperceptible, he'd imagined the outcome a thousand different ways. Every one scorched his heart, remaining forever etched into his memory with acid. A story with a myriad of endings in a tale so twisted even Shakespeare would flinch.

Tonight, her attackers were not Foot soldiers, but that was a minor detail. Those tended to shift in the repetition of his never ending tragedy.

 _A dream. It's probably just a dream._

The worst ones usually were.

Raphael peered from his vantage point in the shadows, trying to decide. Below him, three muscled thugs cornered a petite young woman on a rooftop, cutting her off from the stairs.

"Hey, pretty thang," the leader drawled, stalking towards her. "You workin'? Cause I got some sugar here for ya." He patted the bulge in the front of his pants as his pals all smirked, chiming in with propositions of their own. They inched closer, attempting to surround her.

Raph tensed, gripping the edge of the water tower he perched upon tight. The twisted metal cut into his palm and blood welled, thick and dark—making him rethink his assumption. The expression of terror on the girl's face made the situation far too real.

"Stay back," she warned in a low tone.

A shiver ran down Raph's spine as the girl retreated with her arms outstretched before her. Some trick of the night, his tired mind, or the nearness of the... anniversary, made her sound so familiar he involuntarily leaned forward.

 _Damn, I miss her—so much._

The teenager in front of him was dressed for the cooler fall weather in long cargo pants, a pastel cotton tee, and a fuzzy green hoodie. Her short brunette ponytail sported gentle waves from being pressed against the old lawn chair he spotted a few feet away. Seconds ago, she had been firmly planted in it, stargazing.

 _I can't even look at the stars anymore. Not if I want to stay sane._

Her clothes, her hair—even her fascination with the night sky—were reminders he didn't need. With a grunt of anger, he scrutinized her more closely, searching for differences from the girl in his memory. Something to help him maintain a grip on reality.

Her eyes were the wrong color, he decided, dark instead of light hazel. And she might move smoothly, but she lacked the exquisite physical grace he remembered.

 _SHE was poetry in motion, but this ain't her. She's gone._

Those two words twisted his gut. The heartache was old and he expected to have buried his grief by now, but every time he repeated them, they brought fresh agony. Like shrapnel left inside his body to fester, they tore his feeble sutures and the infection reared up anew.

For the millionth time, he wished things were different. Wished he hadn't given in to foolish desire and teenage hormones. Wished he'd chosen another rooftop. Wished somehow the universe would fold back on itself so he might undo what had been done.

 _Wished it happened ta me instead of her. But there is no peace in wishing and no stars left to wish upon._

Still, he couldn't stand by as someone who even slightly resembled her was threatened or demeaned. A primal instinct—the urge to protect a loved one—drove him to intervene. When one of the thugs grabbed the girl's wrist, a threatening growl escaped his throat. Hidden where he was the sound reflected, making it impossible to trace.

Startled expressions of consternation replaced the men's superior sneers. The leader pulled a gun from his waistband and the other two produced knives. They crouched and scoured the blackness around them for any hint of movement.

The girl used his distraction to twist free and run—though the edge of the building left little chance for escape. Time stretched as the crunching sound of gravel reverberated through the still air, triggering Raphael's ever-present nightmare. The past pulled him back once more, distorting his present, destroying his future. It offered no comfort that this time he could watch it all unfolding.

 _No. Please. No._

He tried so hard to suppress these memories, burying them under the minutia of daily life.

 _It's not her!_

Not permitting himself to think her name though her spirit lurked in everything around him.

 _It's NOT HER!_

The sounds were the same. Echoed mistakes, repeating again. The worst moments of his life dredged from the depths of his mind and thrown in his face.

Rapid, running footsteps across the rooftop. A sharp cry of pain.

 _Someone caught her! Struck her!_

Breath whistling in his lungs as he climbed as fast as he could go.

 _She's screaming! A strangled word—my name!_

Then the worst part of all...

 _Deadly silence._

For ten years, those sounds haunted him—waking or sleeping. Each repetition driving him closer to the edge of madness. If he lost his focus, they would catch him off guard. Pitch him headlong into that terrible memory. In all likelihood, he would suffer them the rest of his life.

 _But this girl still has a chance._

Raphael swallowed the bile clogging his throat and scrubbed a fist angrily across his eyes.

 _I will not let history repeat itself._

* * *

Hours later, he staggered home. Thugs beaten, girl saved, he should have felt better but weariness dragged him down.

 _I've got to get her outta my head._

He snorted at his own thought.

 _'Bout as likely as Michelangelo leaving leftovers. And, speak of the devil..._

His youngest sibling was seated firmly in front of the television. Raph nodded to him before plodding up the stairs and down the hall to his room. He collapsed on the bed without bothering to disarm and stared blankly at the ceiling while his fingers drew absent-minded patterns on top of the quilt.

 _I could use a drink._

Irritated at himself for thinking it, Raphael sat up and reached for a book. He was halfway through a 1950's crime novel and rather enjoying a world where everything was laid out in black and white.

 _In fiction, the mobster always goes down an' the dame is forever grateful. There ain't no muddy middle ground._

He thumbed the well-worn pages until he found his place and dove in, determined to have a few hours respite. He was just getting into it when...

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

He grimaced as a timid, female voice invaded the silence of his room. It was pitched high with feigned fear, guaranteed to grab his attention.

 _Of course, Mikey has to interrupt. I probably looked too upset when I came in._

Michelangelo had tried to assist in his own way over the years—tried to keep Raph from wallowing in depression—but the novelty of his pranks had worn off a long time ago.

"Please... can you help me?"

Raph's patience was growing thin. He ignored the voice, not so much as glancing up from his book. Unfortunately, Mikey didn't let up. He knew the hot-head was hardwired to respond to females in distress.

"RAPH—"

The thread of goodwill holding his temper in check snapped. Flexing his biceps, Raphael's head jerked up in the direction of the call.

"I swear, Mikey if you don't lay off I'm gonna—"

The rest of his sentence died away. Instead of the laughing baby-blue eyes of Michelangelo peeking around the doorframe, his amber glare locked on a forlorn hazel gaze streaked with pain. He stared, transfixed. There was a woman in his doorway. One conjured out of thin air.

He frowned, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

 _I may have actually lost it this time._

There was no question who she was, yet she was not the slight girl he normally pictured in his delusions. Tonight, tight dark-washed jeans and a light V-neck, grey t-shirt accented mature feminine curves. Long strands of hair dyed such a dark brown they were almost black, surrounded her shoulders. Not one resembled the original lustrous brunette, but there was no mistaking those eyes.

 _Eyes that only exist in my mind and memories._

The woman could have been a ghost, except she seemed trapped. Poised behind a sheet of thick, curved glass, she held one fist raised and resting against the barrier. Obviously, she had been trying to gain his attention. She mouthed something at him, expression filled with uncertainty, but this time he could not hear a sound. In fact, the noises that constantly haunted him had ceased.

The silence was deafening.

Raphael sat frozen in place, stunned beyond the point of reaction. He licked his lips to wet a mouth gone instantly dry and tried several times to speak. To get something, anything, past the lump in his throat.

"Jenna?"

Her name started as a whisper, but by the time he reached its end, he found himself shouting. Tossing the book aside, he hurled himself across the room so fast the air of his passing turned the pages of the discarded volume. He slid to a stop before the odd glass wall and lifted a shaking hand. A smooth, solid surface met his palm, despite its illusionary qualities. A cold far more bitter than ice stabbed through his flesh to the bone.

Jenna mirrored the gesture, pressing her hand to the other side. Her eyes glistened and a tear ran down her pale cheek, even as her full lips curved into a smile—until she looked beyond him. Her joyous expression contorted to one of alarm.

Instinctively, Raph whirled—drawing a sai as she shrank back. The room was empty. Confused, he swung around again, watching helplessly as Jenna lost her balance and fell. She dragged herself awkwardly away, using both hands and a single leg to scoot along the floor.

Her retreat left a smear of bright red across the gleaming white bottom of her prison.

Horrified, his eyes darted over her, noting signs of trouble he missed in the first shock of recognition. He re-scanned her face and swallowed hard. One cheek was swollen, a large, angry bruise blossoming across it. Her right foot turned out at an awkward angle and blood stained the hem of her jeans. All his instincts cried out at the sight. His heart screamed, insisting he shouldn't just stand there... but his mind was conflicted.

 _This is impossible, madness._

Oh, he dreamed about Jenna often, endured nightmare after nightmare where she was the star. According to Donatello, it was a natural part of the grieving process but this was different. Never did he imagine her as she would be now, an adult.

Raphael dragged his eyes away from her to examine everything else in his field of view, searching for an explanation. The portal-like window was small but he could tell she was confined in a huge glass dome, surrounded by some sort of lab equipment. He couldn't immediately identify the location, but there was something freakishly familiar about it.

Jenna shot him a panicked glance and curled into herself. Pulling up one knee to hide her face, she shivered in pure terror. Whatever she feared must be getting closer.

Raph's muscles tensed and adrenaline flooded his veins.

 _Hallucination or ghost, I ain't lettin' her face this alone._

He raised his fist with a fierce bellow and charged toward the barrier, leading with the heavy handle of his sai. Without slowing, he smashed the pommel against the frozen glass with all his might.

The image wavered and he staggered right through. Flat on his shell in the hall from the momentum, he let out an oath strong enough to blister paint but a lightning fast handspring had him up and back in the room in seconds. The odd window remained, though it had faded somewhat. It wouldn't last much longer.

 _Now what?_

Brute force failed so it was time for plan 'B'. Brains. Not really his strong suit but, luckily, he knew a genius.

"DONNIE!" The urgent roar shook the lair. He wasn't about to leave and go searching for his brother but unless Donatello had suddenly gone deaf he'd be here fast. Raphael stared longingly at the injured woman and shouted again. "Donnie, HURRY!"

After all this time, he couldn't stand not to see her face—those eyes. He made a fist and pounded furiously on the glass. Jenna jumped at the sound. Panic contorted her expression as her gaze moved from him to the unknown enemy. She shook her head infinitesimally, warning him away, before hiding her face again in her arms.

Raphael scowled.

 _She don't want me making noise?_

A distorted reflection of someone moving caught his eye and he leaned closer for a better view. The unmistakable silhouette of a samurai helmet caused his breath to hitch. He backed away, hands falling limply to his sides.

"No," he whispered. "It's not possible."

 _We defeated the Shredder long ago._

Raphael had banished the man himself, throwing the villain into a vortex of darkness between dimensions in vengeance for the loss of... the girl in front of him.

"No!" he shouted. This denial included her.

 _Both of them are gone forever. Aren't they?_

Jenna jolted up again at his shout. Her eyes were huge and she raised an arm, hand outstretched and pleading towards him as her image paled.

'Raph!' she mouthed desperately as he shook his head.

 _What if they aren't? Is one worth the price of the other? Can I accept the return of our family's worst enemy if it means Jenna is alive?_

The answer was a decisive and unadulterated yes, but he came to the decision too late. The vision faded before his eyes. With a flash of light, Jenna, the room, all of it—disappeared.

The sound of pounding feet announced the arrival of his brothers. Donatello rushed in. Leonardo, his katana drawn, stopped in the entrance, while Michelangelo bounced on his toes in the hall, trying to see over his brother's shell.

Raphael ignored them. He collapsed slowly to his knees and rocked back and forth, hands pressed over his face.

 _Be careful what you wish for..._

The phrase whispered insidiously inside Raphael's mind, repeating in a mocking, constant litany. For years he had wished to see her again. Every night when his head hit the pillow he imagined what she might be doing. What _they_ might do, if only—

 _Be careful what you wish for..._

Countless meditation sessions had been spent trying to recall the scent of her, the silky feel of her hair, the softness of her skin. He had known it all once. How many times had he conjured the sound of her voice in the silence of the night to keep him company on patrol? Or run towards a scream he was sure was her only to find a total stranger?

 _Be careful what you wish for... you just might get it._

Raphael had finally seen her, but what he witnessed tore his heart and soul. Jenna was grown and gorgeous, injured and in danger—then gone again before anyone else could see. Leaving him a tale to tell no one would believe.


	2. Razor's Edge

**Razor's Edge**

The household rested, yet something roused Splinter from his meditation. He remained motionless in front of the small shrine of his ancestors and kept his eyes closed, stretching his 'other' senses to identify the reason for his awakening.

Intense emotional turmoil cascaded through the lair, disrupting the evening's vibrations. Shock and disbelief were followed by joy, then anger. Deep seated and turbulent, the rage most certainly meant the trouble originated with Raphael. None of his other sons harbored that gut wrenching sensation the way his second eldest did.

A loud yell broke the silence as a guttural voice called for Donatello. That was unusual. The quiet genius was not customarily the cause of strife.

 _Perhaps he is the solution._

With a deep sigh, Splinter grasped his walking stick and rose from his seat. This was not the routine rambunctiousness he still occasionally felt from his sons, despite their more mature standing. Something serious was occurring.

The anger mixed with fear and pain as he crossed the living area, forming an all-consuming fog. By the time he made the climb to the bedroom level, all his children had gathered. He observed their reactions carefully.

Donatello's eyes flicked over the room, noting nothing appeared out of place. Nothing except for the odd behavior of his brother.

"Raph?" The genius hesitated then placed a palm on the kneeling turtle's shoulder.

Raphael didn't respond. He dropped his hands but his eyes were dark and haunted.

Donatello gasped as if he had seen this before and never wanted to experience it again. Leonardo seemed to recognize the signs too. He sheathed his katana and knelt, lowering himself to Raphael's level.

"Dude?"—Michelangelo bounced in—"We heard you yell." He skidded to a halt when Raph didn't even glance at him. "Looks like he's seen a ghost," he murmured in a subdued tone.

Though his youngest could often be theatrical, Splinter thought he might be correct this time. Raphael's color was completely off and he shook where he sat. His usual gruff but caring demeanor totally subsumed by hollow desolation.

"Raph?" Leo asked in a gentle voice. He drew his brother's blank gaze by the simple expedient of lifting his chin. He paled when the hot-head didn't protest. "What happened?"

Raphael just stared.

Splinter had seen enough. He strode into the room, taking command, but as he cleared the door the fur along his spine began to rise. His whiskers twitched at an unexpected tingle and an unnerving sensation of 'elsewhere' caused his long tail to smack the floor.

 _Whatever occurred left a significant imprint on the energies around the door._

Intrigued, he wanted to investigate, but Raphael's welfare came first.

"Michelangelo, your brother is in shock," Splinter said in a clipped manner. "Bring juice. Leonardo, the blanket from the bed. Donatello?"

He raised one brow in silent question. Was there anything more to be done?

Donatello pulled a small penlight from his belt pouch and began checking his brother's pupils. Violent spasms interrupted the exam—racking Raphael's body. They continued even as Leonardo threw a blanket around him and added warmth from the friction of his hands.

"There's no visible injury," Donatello said with a frustrated shake of his head. "I'll have to take a blood sample and run some tests to determine what's causing this."

"You don't think it's because..." Leonardo's eyes drifted to the table near the door.

Splinter followed his gaze and frowned. The surrounding wall was covered with life-like portraits of a girl. One he had never met, who somehow still managed to capture Raphael's heart.

Donatello sighed. "I don't know. It's possible. He's been walking a razor's edge lately, but... something had to trigger this. Until I figure it out, all we can do is make him comfortable. Help me get him into bed?"

Leonardo nodded and grabbed Raphael's knees as Donatello bent to lift his arms. They hoisted him onto the mattress and exchanged an anxious glance. Raphael still hadn't protested being manhandled.

 _That is a most worrying reaction._

Michelangelo returned, bottles of juice in hand from Leonardo's personal stash. "Sorry, bro," he quipped, "you're the only one in the lair who still drinks this stuff."

Leonardo ignored the barb and pulled a chair up next to the head of the bed for Splinter as the others nervously took up stations around the room. Michelangelo flopped bonelessly on a beanbag while Donatello hovered, watching for changes. Leonardo leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

Splinter rested a paw on Raphael's brow. The disturbance in his mind was practically a scream. This, he suspected, was the cause of the shock more than any physical injury but it wouldn't hurt for Donatello to run his tests.

"My son, drink," he said, opening the bottle and raising the neck to the turtle's lips.

Raphael complied with the direct command but he moved sluggishly. His glazed eyes suggesting his thoughts were far from the present.

"The sugar should help," Donatello said. "But we need to give his system time to absorb it. While we're waiting, I'll get the testing supplies."

Splinter stopped him with an outstretched paw. "There is something... odd, occurring near the door. Be cautious."

Donatello's brows drew together as he examined the empty air with an intense expression. "I'll get something to test that too," he said, before boldly walking through and heading down the stairs.

"Leo," Michelangelo said with a troubled frown, "I know Raph is still... messed up over her, but... You really think this is Jenna's fault?"

"None of it was her fault, Mikey," Leonardo muttered. "Least of all this. It's just- her death eats away at him more this time of year."

"Yeah," Michelangelo said. "but this—"

"Tell me of how you encountered her," Splinter interrupted.

"We've told the story a thousand times," Michelangelo protested. "Are you ever gonna believe us?"

"I may not have met the young lady, my son, but I have never doubted your words."

"I always wondered how she did it," Donatello commented as he came back through the door. "Your radar is hard to stay under, Sensei—especially inside the lair. But whenever she was around I... never remembered to ask." He frowned as if the realization puzzled him.

 _You have no idea how much that bothers me..._

Leonardo smiled and shook his head, dismissing the speculation. "Wish I'd thought to ask her a thing or two about stealth."

"Wish I'd asked her about a lot of things," Donatello added softly.

"Let us not lose focus, my children. If Leonardo is correct, Raphael's mind is tormented by Miss Jenna's exit from our lives. Perhaps he would be comforted if we can redirect his thoughts to her entrance instead."

Slowly Michelangelo nodded and Leonardo cleared his throat.

"It was almost twelve years ago when I first saw her, Sensei," Leo said, "shortly after you named me leader. We met April only a few months prior and life was changing rapidly"—he grimaced—"We were still working out the kinks in the team and things were... tense, that day. Raph went out alone in the rain to prove a point—"

A groan and incoherent muttering from the bed interrupted the narrative as Raphael restlessly turned. Michelangelo almost smiled. Even when he was entirely out-of-it Raphael couldn't bring himself to agree with Leonardo's version of events.

"He found Jenna instead..."

* * *

 _Leo was right, in a way._

The memories were all so clear in his mind.

Water pounded down, beating a relentless tempo on his skull. Raphael skittered across the rooftops as lightning flashed through the sky and thunder rolled menacingly. He could not have conjured a more appropriate external setting for his black mood.

On the next jump, his sopping red mask caught the wind and slapped across his eyes. He missed his footing on the landing, sliding several feet on the rough, wet cement. He swore loudly as the concrete ripped through the protective wrapping around his ankle and scraped off the top layer of skin.

The raging storm drowned out his furious cry so he yelled again. This time hurling a string of curses into the uncaring sky. He didn't feel any better. The fall stung his pride, though there was no one to see.

His chest heaved as he tried to vent his anger. The weather, the fall—they merely added to his rage. The real culprit was his brother. Leonardo was at it again. Picking and pushing and just being so damned _smug,_ in that infuriatingly calm way of his that Raph couldn't stay in the lair. He didn't exactly want to be out in the wet, but dealing with the rain was better than listening to Fearless explain—again—why he was the one in charge.

Raph didn't need another lecture on how he lacked the necessary control over his emotions. Or, for that matter, a talk on how problems couldn't be solved by running away.

 _I handle my anger jus' fine. I didn't give him a knuckle-sandwich before I left, now did I._

And he _wasn't_ running away. He had a destination. April had offered her apartment as an escape for times like this. Days when the mere thought of being locked in with his brothers made his head want to explode.

April O'Neil was... unique. She was the only female of the human species he talked with but he suspected the rest of them were not at all like her. Despite a rather sudden introduction, she had accepted them—far more readily than any of them could have hoped.

The others thought he had a crush on the smart red-head, since he visited more than all of them put together but they were wrong. To him, April was another kind of family. A beloved older sister, a different sort of sensei, and sometimes, like tonight, an outlet for his frustration. But, she wouldn't want him to bleed all over her kitchen.

Raph bent to examine the damage in the low light, feeling around the edges of the wound. He hissed at the contact, but it was a small divot, nothing more. A few minutes time would scab it over and the rain should wash off most of the mess.

He sighed as he stood, then tensed when his skin began to tingle.

 _Shit!_

He hit the deck, covered his head with both hands, and prayed the building had a lightening rod. If not, he would end up burnt to a crisp as the puddled water conducted the arcing electricity over the rooftop.

A blinding light flared.

He waited for the searing pain, an earsplitting crack, or the rolling rumble of thunder, but nothing sounded.

 _Can you be too close to hear it? Have ta ask Donnie..._

He must still be alive, though, because he had the brainpower left to wonder about such things. The lightning must not have struck his building after all.

 _Maybe the next one over?_

Cautiously, he raised his head. He lay less than 10 feet from the gap but couldn't make out much of anything across the way. The stench of ozone made him wrinkle his beak, but he didn't see any scorch marks.

He crept closer, eyes scanning the vaguely threatening, amorphous lumps that were nothing more than exposed vent pipes and AC units. He froze when they locked on a shape which did not belong on the roof, especially in this downpour.

A small shape. A human shape.

 _One who shouldn't be so dreadfully still._

Before he processed the thought fully, he was moving. Vaulting across, he hunched over the figure to shield her from the rain; for it was a her. A young girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Her clothes were scanty, too short for the weather. At least, this weather. She wore only a neon red tank-top and cut off jeans and her skin was covered in goosebumps.

 _What the heck?_

With frantic fingers, he searched for a pulse at her neck. A steady heartbeat met his touch and he sighed in relief. She was breathing too, her chest rising and falling in an even pattern.

 _So, the lightning didn't get her, but how did I miss seeing her before? With her pale skin and those clothes, she sticks out up here like a sore thumb._

He frowned as his eyes roamed the roof again, searching for shelter. There wasn't an easy access point on the building. No fire escape reached all the way to the top and there was no internal stair. There wasn't even a shed, pigeon coup, or water tower to huddle under.

 _Where did ya come from?_

Obviously, she'd only just entered, or rather, exited from somewhere. Her shirt, though covered with darkening drops, was not soaked through and the rain had been falling for hours.

Almost immediately though, he had other things to worry about as the girl stirred, raised a hand to her head, and groaned. As he watched, a thick drip that wasn't water ran out from under her palm.

 _Ah, hell! I can't leave her here bleedin' like this!_

He scooped her up and jogged further on, leaping to the next roof and the next, until he found a covered doorway to prop her up in. She was still unconscious, her head lolling back as he wiped at the slice across her forehead. He hadn't been able to see it before but in the light, it was clear her injury was beyond his basic first aid skills. Don would know what to do but, if he called now, he'd never hear the end of it...

Swearing at the necessity, he picked up his phone.

* * *

Raphael blinked and found himself back in the present. He was in bed. The others were gone. A lamp glowed on the side table and Donatello dozed in the chair next to him. The lair was silent. It must be late.

 _Was she some sort of fever dream? Why else would Donnie sit up with me?_

He groaned at the thought and a tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. It hurt, so it had to be true. Unlike tonight's illusions. He'd been teetering on the edge of sanity and he must have fallen off.

 _Jenna! Oh sweetheart, I wish... you were real._


	3. Love, Lose, Repeat

**Love, Lose, Repeat**

 _I met her on one rooftop only to lose her on another._

The thought consumed Raphael's mind.

Closing his eyes tight, he tried to force the memory away. He didn't want to remember their final night together, but it played out in full behind his clenched lids, as raw as if it happened yesterday.

It was Jenna's sixteenth birthday and he busted his shell to make it special. He packed them a picnic dinner with some serious help from Michelangelo. And Donatello worked with him for an entire week to create a suitable present.

The evening air was warm. For the first time in many weeks, the smog dissipated enough he could see the stars. Jenna loved the night sky and he'd found them a perfect spot for stargazing.

 _Tonight there will be no holding back._

Raph needed to tell her how he felt or he was going to burst. He would explain how incredible she was and, somehow, he would make her believe him. Hopefully, the admission wouldn't scare her away.

She'd been hurt before, and not just emotionally. She often flinched whenever he raised his voice and she shied away from his brothers when one or another moved too quickly. They would never harm her, but bad things had happened to her somewhere.

Thinking about it made his blood boil. Someday, when she trusted him enough, she might tell him about it, until then there wasn't a damn thing he could do. He'd already tried shadowing her home but she always managed to slip away.

He took several deep breaths to calm his anger and forcefully relaxed his fists. He didn't want her night to start badly. Besides, if everything went well, he could inquire into her past afterward.

Jenna arrived at the door to the lair promptly at eight. Despite his earlier resolution to tell her all, he simply stared. She was so beautiful, he was tongue-tied. So he didn't comment on the way her black jeans hugged her legs, or mention how her flowing top and velvet hoodie set off her eyes, though he committed those details to memory. Instead, they talked randomly as they walked the sewer paths to the street ladder.

He didn't need to lead the way. Jenna was such a frequent visitor she knew the access points and routes almost as well as he did, but it always amazed him how she ended up outside their door looking so pristine.

It had to be some sort of female magic he was unaware of.

The alley was empty as they exited. Raph dropped the manhole cover quietly into place and led her to a nearby fire escape. He paused, cupping his hands in front of him and met her eyes.

Jenna set the basket at his feet, took a couple of steps back, and vaulted off his clasped palms. She latched on to the first level of iron railing, avoiding the noise and time of pulling down the ladder. He collected their dinner and launched himself from a dumpster, running up the wall to join her.

In the beginning, he had carried her on their outings, but after the first few, she sought ways to manage the maneuvers herself. Over time, he taught her to free run, boosting her whenever she needed assistance. After almost two years of practice, they moved together fluidly over the rooftops, covering ground amazingly fast.

It was a magical partnership. He provided strength and a base she could utilize when there wasn't another support around. She, being smaller and lighter, could cross areas openly to scout where he could not.

Jenna was absolutely fearless on the heights. She conquered all but the widest gaps herself, clearing railings, crossing skylights, and dodging vents with ease. She dashed across the rooftops as if born to them.

His breath caught as he watched her slip gracefully through the night, glad his brothers never joined them. If they saw the way she danced through the darkness, he'd be fighting them off to keep her.

Raphael's favorite part of their joint runs was the building dismount. Jenna would step off the ledge and he would latch on to her with one arm, using the other to slow their descent by any means possible. Sometimes that meant hopping from fire escapes to window ledges, other times he simply scored his sai along the brick.

The smile which lit up Jenna's face during the maneuver was to die for. Tonight, though, he felt enough of a rush just anticipating what she would say.

Their destination came into view, a recently defunct club whose outdoor deck still boasted a layer of soft Turkish rugs and multi-colored Moroccan lamps. He'd set up the space earlier so candlelight glowed and comfortable cushions were scattered about. The stars twinkled brightly above, perfecting the look.

"What do ya think?" Raph asked.

"It's marvelous," she whispered. "I can't believe you did all this for me."

 _I'd do anything for you._

The thought was instantaneous, but he shrugged nonchalantly.

"You only get one sweet sixteen, an' you're choosing ta spend it with me. I wanted you ta have one of those really big bashes like they show on TV, but this was the best I could do." He peered about in satisfaction. "Donnie came over and helped me set up the telescope so we should be able to see some star stuff tonight."

Just like that, she was hugging him. He buried his face in her silky hair, breathing her in, savoring the sensation. The scent of her perfume twined around them, making him dizzy.

Close physical contact was something he'd had to get used to. Raph had never been very touchy feely, but Jenna was a tactile person. Hugs, touching—hell, just brushing up against him—made her feel happy. She did it every time they were together.

At first, he hardly tolerated it when others were around. Submitting only because when he drew away or stepped out of her path, she thought he was angry. Often he _was_ angry, but never with her, and he didn't want her thinking she upset him in any way.

Despite his poor track record at reading emotions, he was extremely sensitive to her moods. Jenna may present a strong front but her reactions told him she knew nothing but rejection. While fearless on the heights, she was fragile emotionally—particularly with men.

Males with any sort of authority sent her fleeing, especially older ones. She hid her face shyly from Leonardo, and she desperately avoided his father. Stressing to the point where she would leave the lair if Splinter left his quarters rather than face him. Even Raph's assurances the rat was remarkably gentle didn't help.

So in the beginning, he merely endured her public displays of affection. But in a few short weeks, he found himself craving the physical attention. Now, he recognized it for the gift it was, and he couldn't get enough. His brothers might tease him about showing her his sensitive side, but he couldn't be gruff with her. Not when one harsh word could drive her away.

 _That's why tonight is so important and so hard._

He never thought he'd have to convince a girl _she_ was good enough for _him_. He always thought the situation would be reversed. In an echo of his thoughts, Jenna leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"You're too good for me Raph."

Up on tippy toe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her breath tickled his cheek. He warmed as a flush overtook him and clasped his own arms more firmly about her waist, lifting her slightly from the ground as he straightened.

 _This, right here, is what I want. Forever._

He never wanted to let her go, but eventually, he had to. There was dinner to eat and stars to watch. They even saw a few faint rings around Saturn with the telescope. Later, they lay on the rugs and watched the sky wheel overhead as they filled the night air with quiet conversation.

Raphael reclined next to her, casting frequent appreciative glances in her direction. Her hair spread above her head on the vividly patterned carpet, and the gorgeous strands reflected the soft glow of the lanterns. He longed to run his fingers through them.

She rolled to her side and reached out to where his hand rested, tracing the lines of his palm. Her light touch distracted him, focusing all his attention on the tickling sensations. He suppressed a shiver.

It was the most frighteningly intimate thing he ever felt, but he couldn't help making an uncomfortable comparison. The contrast between their two hands was dramatic. Besides being green, his was huge. It could wrap entirely around her's. If he made a fist he could crush her fragile bones.

Jenna, however, seemed blissfully unaware of their differences.

"Raph," she murmured, "thank you so much. For tonight, I mean. No one has ever done anything like this for me."

He flushed and sat up, using the opportunity to stop her stroking by holding her hand. If he let her continue, there was no telling what would happen next.

"I can't imagine why not," he said, breathing heavily.

Surely she had human boyfriends before, ones who spoiled her more. With no money and no real future to offer her, he wasn't sure why she would choose to be with him. But he hoped his presence, and their family, might be enough. She certainly spent a lot of time with them, that had to mean something.

 _Let's find out._

He released her and reached into the picnic basket for her gift. A small box wrapped in black paper with silver stars and a matching bow.

"For the birthday girl," he said, placing the present in her palm.

Inside lay a pendant necklace nestled on a cushion of black velvet. The front featured an antique gold filigree flower with blue enameled petals and a tiny yellow center. The perfect representation of a forget-me-not, wrapped around a blood red stone.

Donnie had regarded him oddly when he selected it, but the blossom symbolized something special to them. Jenna once confessed she had recurring nightmares about showing up at the lair one day only to find their home empty, that they forgot about her and moved on. The necklace was a promise that he would never forget and had no intention of going anywhere unless she came along. But that wasn't its only secret. The pendant also hid a locket.

There was a trick to opening it. Pressing at just the right point made the back swivel to the side, revealing the engraving. Raphael had painstakingly written the contents himself, even though it took the better part of a week to get right, so no one else knew what it said. He trembled as he showed her how to access it.

"Jenna, I- I've wanted to tell ya something for a long time. Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me. You've changed the way I see things and I wanna be with ya... officially. If you'll have me."

As much as he wanted too, he couldn't say the words: 'I love you.' Later, he would curse himself for his cowardice.

He swiveled the locket open and handed it to her, watching her eyes as she read the inscription.

 _You are my dream.  
You have my heart.  
Yours forever.  
R._

She blinked back tears and threw herself at him, the necklace clutched in one fist. He had hoped for that reaction and braced for it, bringing his hands up automatically to steady her. He wasn't, however, prepared for the kiss.

Soft, warm lips pressed against his as her arms slid around his neck. His eyes flew wide in surprise before falling shut in ecstasy. He pulled her closer, reveling in her response.

Kissing was awkward at first since he'd never done it before, and her sweet mouth was small compared to his wider one. However, a few moments practice made it feel natural. The smile Jenna graced him with as they broke apart was glorious. He felt an answering grin on his own face. A rare, gentle one only she could extract.

He took the necklace from her hand and helped her put it on, still tense and waiting for her answer, though the kiss was a good indication she felt at least some of what he did. His eyes were glued to her pale, pink lips as she opened her mouth—

"Hey freak!" A rough male voice interrupted. "I want some of whatever drug you slipped that slut. It must be some fantastic shit to make her happy kissing you."

Raphael was instantly on his feet, gleaming sai in one hand, as he pushed Jenna protectively behind him with the other. "Call my girl that again and it'll be the last thing ya ever say," he growled.

A low, feminine voice answered the first as if Raph hadn't spoken.

"One should never underestimate the hypnotic charm of the enemy. They do have a rather innocent appeal about them." A woman, wreathed in black, stepped out of the shadows in front of him and a small army of equally black-clad men surrounded her.

"Karai," Raphael spat in recognition.

She gave a mocking little bow.

"Temper, temper Raph. You don't want to scare off your foundling with violent mood swings, do you?" she asked. She moved two steps closer and locked eyes with Jenna, wearing an almost predatory grin. "The Shredder will be most interested in this development."

"She has nothing to do with him. Leave her alone!"

"Oh, but I can't," Karai said, laughing at his trapped expression. "He has been hoping for this day. He thought it might occur some time ago. Perhaps when you started bringing Miss O'Neil home?"

Jenna's eyes gave away her surprise.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Karai's smile deepened. "You're not the first little bird Raphael has tamed and brought back to the nest."

Raph tensed. Jenna knew about their struggle with the Oroku clan. Though she'd never been involved first hand, it hadn't been safe for her not to be aware. But, he hadn't introduced her to April. He worried about them meeting, knowing Jenna would sense their close relationship. He didn't want to give her any reason to feel insecure.

April knew about her, of course. It was nearly impossible for him to hide anything in his life from his big sis, but the timing never seemed right to bring the two of them together.

"It's ok," Jenna said so only he could hear. "She's just trying to get under your skin."

Her voice was breathy but certain and she ran a reassuring hand over his shell where the enemy couldn't see. He suppressed a shiver as the caress sent a tingle down his spine.

 _How did I ever get so lucky?_

"Stay close," he warned over his shoulder before turning back to Karai.

He gauged their numbers with a quick glance. There were far too many for him to beat alone, but he wasn't really concerned about himself. His had to think of a way to keep Jenna out of the fighting. She was fast, but she had no combat training. A single miss-thrown weapon could seriously hurt her.

His mind raced, so focused he almost flinched when she reached across his back for his phone. Jenna didn't remove the device from his belt, but she pushed the panic button to call his brothers.

 _Smart girl._

He didn't recall telling her of the emergency switch, but she hung out with Donnie a lot so he wasn't surprised she knew where it was. He needed to talk to the genius about getting her a phone of her own, but first they had to get out of this mess.

He began backing slowly toward the edge of the roof, buying time. Jenna moved with him, keeping herself tucked safely behind his shell.

Raph scanned the nearby buildings for a defensible spot. Directly across the street, another structure reared above this one with a fire escape perfectly positioned on its side. A ladder led all the way to the top, which meant there was a real staircase to the interior from the roof.

 _She can use that to get away!_

The metal platform was pretty far, fifteen, maybe twenty feet, but if he could find some way to get her there, it was her best chance at freedom. The problem would be convincing her.

Jenna followed his gaze and blinked before suddenly stepping in front of him. She pushed his shoulders away hard with both hands. "You bastard!" she shouted, moving backward toward Karai, "You've been seeing someone else? Who the heck is Miss O'Neil?"

Raphael froze, paralyzed by the anger in her voice, hadn't she said it was ok? Abruptly, he realized what she was doing. He didn't need to explain after all. She was creating a diversion and making space for the run-up. She was going to attempt the jump.

He shook his head, uncertain now that she was clued into the plan if she could make it, even with his help.

 _She trusts me that much?_

Raph wasn't sure he trusted himself. She stepped back again shaking her fist and he had no choice but to play along.

"Hon, I can explain..." he began, lowering his sai and placing his hands pleadingly together in front of him. It was the perfect launch position.

"Hon? Don't you honey me!"

Jenna ran at him furiously. Karai let her. The others stood chuckling, thinking they were going to get a show. That is, until she set her foot in his nested palms and locked her knee.

Raphael heaved her up and back with the force of his whole body, turning the remaining momentum into a roll which landed him shell to the wall with both weapons drawn. Jenna soared over the alleyway and hit the railing of the fire escape with a clang. She clung to it for dear life, as the blow knocked the air out of her lungs, but ultimately, she struggled over onto the platform.

A maniacal smile crossed Raph's face as Karai's expression soured. His deep voice echoed over the alley, drowning out the noise of thirty enemies reaching for their weapons.

"JENNA RUN! NOW!"

Raph engaged the nearest Foot soldier, attacking anyone who dared to approach with a mad ferocity, keeping them back. As he battled, he glanced across, checking her progress. She was climbing as fast as she could.

The building was tall, with another ten stories or more to the roof and despite his protection, some of the Foot climbed behind her. Fear clenched his stomach, but she had a strong lead. He thought she could make it to the inner stairwell before they caught her.

"Cowabunga!"

Raphael's head snapped around at the familiar battle cry to see his brothers joining the fray. Michelangelo dove in first but his two more stable siblings were right behind him. With backup to handle Karai, Raphael tried to disengage from the fight. He pelted for the edge but the Foot kept getting in his way!

He had to catch up with Jenna. She disappeared during his moment of distraction and he worried she might have been caught. Finally, he reached the ledge and made the crossing in a single powerful bound. He raced up the stairs, pulling every trick he knew to climb faster. He was almost there when he heard them.

The sounds that would haunt him forever after.

 _Gravel. Pain. Scream. Silence._

He arrived at the top and his eyes darted around frantically. The remaining attackers were melting away but none of them held her.

"JENNA?" he roared.

There was no reply.

A glint drew his eyes to the far side of the buiding. He ran to the edge but all he found were shallow scratches on the concrete, shards of fingernails, and streaks of blood. All evidence someone tried to hold on and failed. He moaned deep in his throat as he leaned out and saw a body below.

Hope stopped the breath in his chest.

The black clad form was much too large. It had to be one of the Foot. Frantically, He re-analyzed everything in sight, studying all the shadowy gaps where a girl her size might hide. A flash of gold brought his gaze back to the railing.

He picked up the metal chain and stared in open-mouthed horror at the broken links which no longer held a locket.

 _Her necklace._

Jenna _had_ fallen over. This wasn't a calculated leap, and he hadn't been there to save her.

Pain exploded across his consciousness and the world heaved. All sense of up or down fled as white lights burst behind his eyes and he sank to his knees screaming her name. He had no idea how long he knelt there before his brothers arrived, but his throat was raw and his mask soaked with tears.

"Raph?" Leo yelled from the fire escape, "RAPH! What happened?"

The others joined in, begging him for answers, but Raphael couldn't bring himself to explain. It was all he could do to keep breathing, sucking in great sobbing mouthfuls of air between screams.

When they could not get any sense out of him, they began to search the roofs, streets, and alleyways for Jenna on their own. Finally, Raph rose to help. In his torment, he could only think they should be the ones to retrieve her body. He didn't want anyone else touching her.

But, she wasn't to be found.

Days later, reports only mentioned the fight on the roof of the abandoned club and the death of a single man. Donatello hacked the police system citywide, searching for some hint of her fate that may have been silenced. He hijacked the cameras in the morgue and checked every Jane Doe. He searched the records of every medical clinic and hospital in the tri-state area with no results.

Somehow, in one appalling moment, a girl they had known for almost two years had fallen off a building and completely disappeared.

 _Along with all my hopes for the future. But that was a long time ago..._

A much older, wearier, Raphael pushed aside those grim memories, blinking back tears. When he opened his eyes, Donatello was awake, watching him alertly.

"Raph," Don said with a nod.

"Donnie," he answered, scrubbing the back of his hand across his face. "I have a fever? How long have I been out?"

"No, no fever," Donatello said, "You've been gone a few hours, it's 3 am."

"What happened?"

 _If it wasn't a fever, what could explain... her?_

"I was hoping you could tell me," Donnie said. He was reviewing something on a tablet in his right hand and taking Raph's pulse absently with his left.

"I- I'm not sure," Raph stuttered.

He wondered if he should tell his genius brother about the hallucination—Jenna all grown up and injured; Shred-head returned.

 _He'll probably just chalk it up to my never ending obsession, or worse, assume I've gone over the edge. Don't want him to think I can't handle myself..._

"You called for me," Don said, turning a critical eye on his brother, "so I can only summize you needed my advice. What were you doing?"

 _I won't tell him. He doesn't need to think I'm any crazier than I already am._

"Reading," Raph admitted at last.

"You didn't see anything, or hear anything, you want to tell me about?"

"Nah, I don't know what it was."

Donatello hadn't released his wrist. He twisted it gently so Raph could see the underside of his own fist. The skin was a strange blackish color and pieces were flaking off. Startled, he examined his other hand as well. They matched.

"So... why do you have freezer burns from an incomplete intra-dimensional portal on your hands?"


	4. Imaginary

**Imaginary**

The dark-haired, pale-skinned, young woman pulled up one knee and laid her head down on her arms, attempting to think through her throbbing headache. If the agony were only confined to her head, she might have been able to focus, but each beat resonated in horrible counterpoint to the pain in her leg. She shifted on the polished metal floor to ease the strain on her outstretched shin and groaned as her back protested, burning uncomfortably in time with her pulse.

She tried to remember how she got here, but her thoughts spun out of control in one big fragmented mess. The entire day became a surreal nightmare and separating what had actually taken place from what she thought had occurred was difficult.

 _What I wouldn't give to get back to this morning when things were normal. Or would I?_

A foggy thought derailed her. Something red. A simple cloth mask bound about a pair of intense, intimidating eyes. Those eyes, those gorgeous gold-flecked eyes had provoked a profound response. Her skin tingled at the sight and her heart nearly pounded its way out of her ribcage. She had yelled something...

 _A name?_

It hung on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't _quite_ recall it. She sighed as her head increased its pounding and the whole thing slipped through her mental fingers like water, leaving nothing but a tightness in her chest which felt suspiciously like heartache.

 _No doubt about it... I am losing my mind._

She tried to ease her headache, pressing gently on her temples as she closed her eyes.

 _Usually only the old fantasies abandon me that way, the ones from... before._

Jenna Williams was well aware most of the world did not perceive things the way she did. As a child, her 'visions' of impossible places and people were chalked up to a vivid imagination and generally tolerated. Unfortunately, she never grew out of it. When she reached an age where such creativity was deemed unhealthy, professionals were brought in. They described her problem as "trouble maintaining a proper connection to reality."

 _That's how mom tells it anyway._

They strove to 'cure' her of this peculiar breed of insanity. Poking and prodding, applying various uncomfortable methods and medications to mold her into the person her folks, or rather her stepfather, thought she should be. She became a prisoner in her own home.

 _Right up until the accident..._

This was not a reality she particularly wanted to remember.

 _Focus on this morning. Breakfast and coffee. Coffee was real._

She shuddered a bit. Nothing as revoltingly bitter as coffee could come from her imagination. Jenna hated the flavor but she drank it every day. From what she observed, regular people did. With her fresh start in New York, she wanted to fit in, so breakfast at the coffee shop near her apartment and a run in Central Park were part of her daily activities. Such routines provided her with stability. A measuring stick against which to compare anything out of the ordinary.

This morning had been fine, or at least no different than any other in the past few weeks. The dawn light had illuminated the park beautifully. Enough Autumn leaves had fallen to provide a satisfying crunch underfoot as she jogged along. The fresh air invigorated her.

Ten minutes in, she veered off the path and cut across country; leaping fences, swinging over railings, and vaulting benches. There were moments of flat out sprinting across green lawns and stepping stones over a creek. She even threw in a few flips and rolls for the workout. Treating the world as her own personal obstacle course was a habit she picked up sometime in her mysterious youth. Running that way required complete focus on her location and the elements around her and allowed her to feel, for once, totally in control of her life.

She loved every minute of it, but though her runs were freedom incarnate, something was always missing. Somehow, they left her feeling starkly alone. Empty and incomplete. Despite that, today had been a good workout, and she reached her usual resting point—the center of a small clearing at the furthest edge of the park—without issue.

 _After that, reality went straight to hell._

* * *

A man stepped out of the trees in front of Jenna and walked slowly into the center of the open space. His outfit was... unique. An ensemble of metal, mesh, and fabric which formed a kind of exotic armor covered in gleaming blades.

 _Could he be imaginary?_

She hadn't seen a full figment in years, just glimpses of places and _things_ , for lack of a better word. They never lasted long and with a bit of concentration, she could usually ignore them until they disappeared, but this... person, stuck around. She fought the urge to investigate his solidness by marching up and poking him in the chest.

 _What is he supposed to be? Some sort of villain?_

He appeared pretty fearsome, regardless of the comic book nature of his clothing, and the intensity with which he returned her stare raised the hair on the back of her neck. Deep in her mind, a warning sounded. She recognized him, or at least the character he portrayed. She frowned as she tried to pinpoint the memory, but like so many things related to her past, it was hazy.

The man drew closer and loomed over her. Suddenly, she was positive he was real and her innate fear of powerful men came roaring to the surface. Perhaps she should have run or screamed, but instead, she froze—intimidated into standing absolutely motionless.

"At last," the stranger said. His grating voice projected menacingly from behind his mask and she shivered. "Do you know how many realities I've had to search to find you, Jenna?"

Her panic ratcheted up a notch.

 _He knows my name?_

She peered up into his staggering red-brown eyes and saw nothing but satisfaction, everything else was shrouded in mystery. At least he wasn't angry.

" _They_ occupy so many," the man continued, "but it seems there is only _one_ of you."

He scanned her curiously, as if wondering why, waiting for some sort of an explanation. Jenna had no idea how to respond. He spoke like he knew about her odd perception of the world, but she wasn't sure what exactly he was asking.

 _Realities? They?_

She furrowed her brow but made no other move, knowing instinctively as prey does in the presence of the predator, that cowering, running, or speaking might elicit a violent reaction.

He read her confused expression and laughed, low and cruel. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Mutely, Jenna shook her head, desperately wondering how to defuse the situation.

"You don't remember any of them? Small wonder you never returned."

The warning in her mind became a frantic scream, begging her to move, to pick up her feet and _run_ , but she couldn't. Fear kept them planted in the dirt. Her gaze swept the clearing searching for help, but she was alone—with an extremely well armed insane person.

"I am the Shredder," he declared, "and you, Jenna Williams, will be the instrument of my ultimate revenge. No matter that you can't recall him, he still pines for you. You will bring _him_ crawling to me, begging on his knees for your release. And without the backbone of his strength, his family will be broken."

 _A name. He mentioned a name, why can't I remember it?_

In the moment, that name had reverberated through her, each syllable distinct and perfect. Crimson filled her mind's eye and triggered something long buried. It caused a reaction so fierce Jenna doubled over and grabbed her head.

 _A woman's voice taunted her and pain—intense and overwhelming—ripped through her body._

Shredder laughed. Terror stole her voice and left her staring wide-eyed, unable to move as he advanced on her.

 _"JENNA RUN!"_ a deep voice shouted out of nowhere. " _NOW!"_

The command set her free, its tone so familiar she obeyed without question. Spinning on one foot she dashed away. Adrenaline added a speed to her legs she never imagined, but the villain moved like lightning. Before she managed ten steps he stood in front of her, hand lashing out faster than a striking snake. A resounding smack echoed across the clearing as his fist connected with the side of her face.

She staggered, lurching violently away. An instinctive twist and roll shifted her out of the path of the next blow, but his gauntlet caught her shirt. Her scream drowned out the loud tearing of fabric as his sharpened armor sliced through her flesh.

She stumbled, fell to all fours, regained her feet, and ran again. For a second, she thought she might win free. Ahead was a more populated area. She opened her mouth to shout for help but he launched an unavoidable kick at her leg.

The snap of breaking bone effectively ended her flight.

Jenna collapsed, whimpered, and tried to drag herself away. The Shredder smiled as he picked her up, though he held her away from himself like she was some vile, tainted thing. He strode back toward the clearing, but she never knew if they made it.

She passed out in his arms.

* * *

 _At least part of my memory is clear. But what came next?_

Jenna raised her head and blinked. Her eyelids stuck together, caked with salty tears. When she pried them open, they landed on the object in front of her and jolted her thoughts back into the correct pattern.

 _I woke in that old wooden chair._

* * *

Her head rested limply on the back and a curved expanse of glass met her blurry gaze. Laboriously, she forced herself upright for a better look. She was completely enclosed in an odd sort of prison. Her mouth fell open as she recognized the shape.

 _Who owns a bell jar big enough to hold a person?_

Pain distracted her and she stopped to examine herself. A tender bruise was forming on her cheek. Her back throbbed and her shirt stuck to her skin, but her worst injury was the broken shin.

The leg hung uselessly over the edge of the seat, but she wasn't about to take imprisonment sitting down. Leaning heavily on the chair, Jenna hauled herself to her feet and balanced on her good limb to stare around. She was trapped in some futuristic science fiction movie.

Everything in sight was glossy white and covered in technology. Angled monitors showed readouts on blue and green screens in a language she didn't understand and white-coated technicians scurried from terminal to terminal typing and shaking their heads.

All of them ignored her.

 _Is it so commonplace to see people in bell jars that an injured person bleeding in their midst doesn't register? Part of this, MOST of it has to be imaginary. Hallucination. A vision._

As she tried to make sense of her surroundings, a single word fought its way out of the misty depths of her mind, accompanied—strangely—by a flash of violet.

"Technodrome," a smooth masculine voice identified the place in her head.

Jenna's brow furrowed at the name, but what was it really? She squinted, trying to see past the illusion. She concentrated so hard she forgot about her leg, in spite of it's near continuous throb. She took a step, put all her weight on it, and shrieked as the bones ground together.

White-hot agony shot straight to her brain, coming to a sharp point right behind her forehead in a sensation that was as painful as it was somehow familiar. She stumbled and fell against the glass wall, blinking hard to hold back tears. No one moved to help her. None of them looked up.

 _Can they not hear me?_

She stood shaking, shocked by their callousness, until a new discovery outside her prison caught her eye. More bizarre than anything she had yet seen, she could only describe it as a window to somewhere else.

Jenna peered through it cautiously overcome by a strange sense of déjà vu. She'd never been in this particular room before but she somehow knew its contents intimately.

A blue milk crate sat in the corner, full of comics. She was certain she could name every issue in it. A pile of spare weights lay on the floor—which weren't supposed to be there. A shelf held a grouping of familiar PEZ dispensers, although the collection had doubled since she last saw it. An odd wooden contraption stood empty nearby, but it was meant to store a pair of ancient weapons.

"Hello?" she called, hoping someone might hear her on the other side. "Is anyone there?" She waited but no one answered. Gritting her teeth she moved a bit closer and tried again. "Please... can you help me?"

She hissed as the bones shifted with the same shooting pain. The window refocused at a different angle. With this change, someone new came into view. Sitting propped up on the bed was a being her mind rejected as real, but her heart instantly recognized.

Jenna cried out to him again. She suspected the glass was soundproof, but his head jerked up with a glare. He probably wondered who the hell she was. He probably wondered how she was looking into his room. She certainly wondered about him. Any normal person would.

He was green and had a large shell on his back—definitely vision material.

His mouth moved, but she couldn't make out what he said. His anger dissolved into shock and he advanced rapidly toward her, raising a two-fingered hand to the barrier in disbelief.

Despite what should have been a strange and frightening appearance, overwhelming joy rose up inside her at his approach. This was more than just happiness at the prospect of being saved, her heart ached at seeing him until she thought it would burst. Her hand automatically moved to match his and her gaze roved across his face, analyzing him.

 _He is so different. I should remember him, even if he was one of my imaginary friends._

Yet she didn't, though she recognized his possessions and knew facts about him she had no right to. She got the impression he was older. Bigger. He'd grown at least a foot and she had to look up to meet his gaze.

Extra damage marred his shell and it had lost some of its luster. Dozens of small white scars laced against the dark green of his skin. They crisscrossed his arms and trailed down his legs, the proof of many battles. Fights she knew he had won. One, positioned dangerously close to his left eye, peeked up over his bright red mask. She winced in empathy and concern. He frowned, brow ridges folding together in a familiar expression of uncertainty.

She could read his body language like a book.

 _How can I not remember his name, yet know all that?_

His eyes fascinated her the most. They were older, a little sadder perhaps, but they still burned rich and dark. And right now... they were devouring her. Her heart pounded in response.

Movement behind him broke the hypnotic spell and she raised her gaze. The Shredder was returning. Her stomach twisted in panic. If this turtle being really existed and everyone could see him a confrontation was imminent.

 _That would be bad, very bad._

In an instinctive move of protection, Jenna tried to draw the villain's attention as he approached, but only managed to trip and sit down hard. Still, it worked somewhat. He looked away from the direction of the mysterious vision. His evil eyes flashed wickedly from her face to her leg and the bright red smear she left across the floor as she scooted back as far away as she could get.

Shredder laughed at her predicament but she heard nothing, so the glass _was_ sound proof. She couldn't explain why the turtle understood her but she didn't know how the strange window opened in the first place.

Unsure what to do next, she buried her face in her arms until a pounding noise forced her to raise her head. The vision was attempting to get her attention. She shook her head and hid again.

"NO!"

A shout which matched the pitch and tone of the one this morning at the park, made her jerk upright. She met the turtle's gaze one final time as he backed away. The haunted expression on his face was familiar. She'd seen it far too often in her own mirror when she was trying to tune out the illusions and focus on reality.

He was denying her existence. It was more than she could bear. Imaginary or not she needed his help.

"Please!" she shouted raising a hand to his fading form. She called something else as well.

 _His name?_

She wasn't sure. Darkness reared up and swallowed her whole.

* * *

 _So that leaves me where?_

The commotion from earlier had dissipated. The strange people departed almost an hour ago, leaving Jenna sitting alone in the dark like some kind of lab rat. Well, the mostly dark. All around her tiny lights flashed and blinked in an array of greens, blues, ambers, and reds courtesy of the computer towers and banks of technological wizardry.

Hundreds of them reflected and refracted eerily through the glass. Dancing erratically across the floor. Making her dizzy and queasy. Making her question her sanity.

 _Maybe I have lost it._

But perhaps that didn't matter. Whether or not her location was imaginary, the 'reality' was she had been kidnapped.

Jenna fought the temptation to give in to another bout of tears. They were useless. She had always been smart, a survivor. She had escaped her parent's prison and, somehow, she would make it out of this odd glass contraption. Once she broke free, she would find a phone and call the police. They would raid this bizarre lab and capture the madman...

 _Or have me committed._

Either way, she would be safe.

 _First things first. I can't go anywhere on this leg._


	5. Torment

**Torment**

Donatello sighed and rested his head against the wall. There were more comfortable places to spend the night than the chair next to his brother's bed, but if what Raphael saw was real, they were all going to have some uncomfortable nights ahead of them.

If it had merely been Raph's story, Don might have been inclined to dismiss the whole episode as suppressed longing. After all, Raphael suffered a great deal in the last ten years. Losing Jenna was the worst possible thing that could have happened to him. Just when he finally opened his heart and let someone in, she was gone.

In the months after her death, Donnie wasn't sure if Raphael was going to make it. He was so distraught they didn't dare leave him alone, or let him out of the lair without an escort.

 _And the way he threw himself at every enemy, as if begging for release…_

The only thing worse than his grief was the rage. Raph always had a temper, but Jenna's needs taught him patience, restraint.

 _Her absence drove him wild._

Over time, he sank into himself, began drinking. So much so that eventually all they could get out of him in the way of conversation were belligerent curses.

Raphael gave way to his darkest desires and went after the Foot without mercy. Each brutal battle ended with the three of them dragging the enraged turtle—struggling and flailing—off the last victim. His mind in such a haze of wrath he never realized he'd been beating a corpse. And though his violent urges eventually brought down their arch enemy, vengeance did nothing to relieve his pain.

 _Jenna's loss was more than he could bear._

When Donnie asked, Raph said he didn't remember too much about that time, except for the endless waiting. He wouldn't leave in case she appeared at their door… as she always mysteriously had.

 _After Shredder's defeat, we barely managed to pry him out of the lair at all._

Master Splinter tried to console him. Leonardo lectured him. Michelangelo gazed at him with pity and despair, but Raphael couldn't stop himself. He drank because he couldn't stand to feel. Didn't want to face what he had become.

An entire year passed before Donatello found a way to bring him to his senses.

* * *

It was nearing 1 AM and Raphael was ensconced once again at the kitchen table with a bottle of gin.

Leonardo sighed and stalked out, resigning the field on his nightly ritual of convincing his red-banded brother to go to bed. It only worked about ten percent of the time, but the stubborn leader refused to stop trying.

 _None of us gave up on Raph, even if he doesn't remember it._

Donatello passed the doorway a few minutes later and Raphael was slumped dejectedly over the table, only part way through the spirits. Donnie didn't say a word, just gave him a once over and without changing expression, whipped his weapon from his shell and shattered the bottle.

Liquor flew across the room, drenching his brother in cold alcohol and peppering him with tiny shards of glass in a shocking wake-up call.

Raph roared to his feet only to be smacked back into his chair by three well-placed strikes from the bo. The final shot, a knockout to the side of the head, would have taken him out. He saw it coming but was too drunk to block it. At the last second, Don pulled the blow, tapping him lightly instead.

"You're dead," the genius said in a flat tone.

"You got lucky," Raphael replied, glaring murderously.

"You think so?" Donatello's weapon whistled through the air as he shifted into a back stance and shrugged. He beckoned with a mocking little curl of his fingers. "Bring it, Raph."

Raphael launched himself across the room. His fists swung in wild, uncontrolled arcs. His eyes gleamed with a mad sheen.

Donatello swept aside each attack and drove him back through the lair until they fought in the tunnels. Every few minutes, Don goaded him further, 'killing' him again and again. Rubbing his nose in the fact he couldn't defend himself.

Raph's blood began to boil. He concentrated and his reckless motions became more disciplined as the fury burned some of the alcohol out of his system.

 _He didn't realize I was leading him._

Raph hardly registered that they broke the surface to fight in an alley. He didn't notice when they made their way to a rooftop until Don stepped up his barrage and laid him out flat in the gravel.

Staring up at the night sky, Raphael paused and Donatello could practically see the wheels turn in his brother's addled brain. He didn't want to see stars. They reminded him of her. That was the problem...

 _Everything reminded him of her death, not her life._

Raphael attempted to stand. Donatello knocked him back on his shell. Four more times he tried. The fifth time, he stayed down, glaring daggers at his younger sibling.

"What the HELL Donnie?" he shouted.

Don eyed him shrewdly, measuring his level of inebriation and making sure of his attention before replying. "I want you to understand how far you've fallen, but with you, words don't cut it."

"Right," Raph snarled with a bitter laugh. "You wanted a chance to show off."

Donatello shook his head. "You can't even protect yourself, much less put up enough of a fight to prove anything." This time when his brother rolled, Don stepped out of the way and let him up. "Think about it. Have I _ever_ beat you more than once in a sparring session? No, most of the time I tap out in minutes. So what happened here? I won 15 times. You didn't score a hit."

Raphael frowned, rubbing his arm as his skin prickled with the truth of that statement. He turned away and stretched, uncomfortable as his muscles protested the sudden workout. His eyes widened as he counted up the days and realized he hadn't participated in training for months. He hadn't set foot in the dojo. Heck, he hadn't even been in the gym.

"Jenna would be horrified."

Raphael froze, then turned with real pain in his eyes.

Donnie hated to say that. None of them spoke of her in Raph's presence if they could help it. Throwing her name around in front of him seemed too cruel. But the family had reached their wit's end.

 _It nearly killed me, but I had to break through to him somehow, before the tiny spark of life in his eyes faded completely..._

A total shock to his system was the only way left to reach him.

"Jenna wouldn't want you injured," Don continued, passionate and pleading. "And it would hurt her to see you neglecting the team."

He stepped back again and Raphael belatedly realized where they stood. The top of the building where she fell. He choked and began to shake from head to toe. His body releasing the scream his throat could not.

"Jenna had faith in us," Donatello said, "in you. And she did not want to be forgotten."

He moved aside so Raph could see what he meant. The ledge was taller. A wood and bamboo screen rose in the corner, decorated with a beautiful plaque. A 'J' was carved across it in a flowing script. Beneath her initial, small carvings of each of their weapons signed the memorial.

A brightly colored bench anchored the center of the serene space. Scattered stone pagoda lanterns glowed in the darkness. Hundreds of tiny blue flowers with bright yellow centers covered a quarter of the building's roof in raised beds, for Donatello and his brothers had turned the whole area into a garden.

 _Forget-me-nots._

Raphael's jaw dropped and he turned with a shocked expression.

"I come here a lot," Donatello said with a shrug, "to clear my head when the chaos in my mind gets too loud. Leo uses it to meditate. Mikey reads her letters to keep her up to speed on what we're doing"—there was a long pause—"You weren't the only one who lost a friend and confidant."

Having said his piece, Don went to the ladder and disappeared, leaving a stunned Raphael in a shrine dedicated to his beloved. Of course, Donnie hadn't actually left. He stood on the fire escape watching over his brother as he wept, seeing that he came to no harm.

 _That night was the turning point._

Raph may never have come to terms with the fact Jenna wasn't coming back, but he realized he needed to go on... somehow.

* * *

Nine years had passed. While Raphael still displayed occasional attacks of brooding or grief, he could usually be relied upon to maintain a more balanced perspective. He hadn't blurted his story out tonight, which made it more acceptable. It meant he considered its probable reality.

 _But this time there is corroborating evidence._

The ruined skin on his fists and palms. Burns caused by a super-cooled surface not available anywhere down here, outside of Don's own lab. Add that to the energies Splinter sensed at the door and the readings from Donatello's own instruments, and there was one inescapable conclusion.

 _Someone attempted to establish a travel portal in the doorway of Raphael's room._

They didn't quite succeed. His brother described it as a window he could only intermittently interact with, and only a malformed gateway would result in the freezer burns, but the lack of any particles from a foreign dimension meant that the origin was, indeed, somewhere in their own world.

This worried the genius for several reasons.

One, because despite being acquainted with a number of friendly aliens and advanced human/mutant scientists, he didn't know of any technology to create that kind of portal.

 _The regular dimension crossing variety are rare enough, but an intra-dimensional one which works inside a single plane? I can't even wrap my head around the physics of such a machine._

Two, the opening appeared within the lair. Despite racking his brain for hours he was no closer to determining how someone might have pinpointed their location.

The contents of the thing were more troubling still. A woman Raphael swore was his Jenna and their old nemesis reborn.

 _Could she still be alive? If so, why haven't we seen her in the past ten years?_

Jenna had loved his brother deeply. She confided her feelings to Donatello long before Raphael made up his own mind. She needed Raph like she needed air.

 _If she could have made it back to him, in any way, she would have by now._

There was another explanation. One Don didn't like in the least. Karai could be taunting them, trying to lure them out of hiding and into a trap.

Foot activity had not slowed in the absence of the Shredder. Karai simply took up her father's mantle and proceeded to persecute them mercilessly. The glimpse Raph saw of the mask and cape may have been her in the master's old gear.

 _A reflection on curved glass is hardly clear._

All in all, Donnie wasn't sure what to think. Drastic action, like moving, was out until he made sure the portal wasn't some sort of fluke, but he didn't want to put them all in danger in the meantime. Especially Master Splinter. Their father was getting on in years and was often ill.

 _Perhaps it would be better if Sensei stays out of the lair for a while._

There was a spare room at the Jones'. April wouldn't mind hosting him.

He eyed Raphael, asleep in the bed, and pulled the covers up around his brother's shoulders, gently tucking him in. Informing Raph the window was real had been a mistake. He freaked out, thinking he'd left the love of his life trapped and injured with their mortal enemy.

Don had to administer a strong sedative to correct his error and get Raph to sleep. He shook his head as he rose to leave for some rest of his own.

 _This woman isn't Jenna._

At least, he was pretty sure she wasn't. There were blood and DNA samples from that long ago night he could use to prove it if he could obtain a sample from the mystery woman. He wished there was some way he might before Raph located her. If she wasn't Jenna, they must remove her, because if Raphael got his hopes up and discovered she was a fraud, he was going to break all over again.

 _This time it will destroy him._

Donatello was not about to let that happen. With one last sorrowful glance at his brother, he headed for bed, vowing to phone April as soon as it was light.

* * *

The moment Donatello left, Raphael's eyes snapped open.

Silently he rose and gathered his equipment. He put an eye to the crack in the door. All was dark in the rest of the lair. He gave a final tug to the knot on his mask and, satisfied everything was in order, slipped out; shutting the door softly behind him.

Twenty minutes later, he lit a candle in the rooftop garden and slumped down on the soft carpet of grass in front of Jenna's shrine. Numbly he raised his eyes to her portrait.

It was one he drew himself—right after she fell—when her likeness was still strong in his mind. Before time smoothed the planes of her face in his memory and erased tiny details like the freckles across her nose and the delicate curve of her lips.

Details thrown into sharp relief by what he had seen tonight.

In the pre-dawn light, everything around him looked monotone, a washed out grey field of ash. In the space lit by his small lamp, Jenna stared back at him in living color. A ghost from the past with a knowing glint in her eye.

He reached a hand to her face almost involuntarily, longing to touch her cheek. His fingers met cold glass.

"Jenna," he whispered.

Her name reignited an ember smoldering deep inside him. Desire and regret he kept buried sprang to life, renewed in a way he almost could not stand. He had to _know_.

 _What happened? Did she really fall? Or has she been a prisoner this whole time?_

The next thought sent a chill down his spine. He moaned in dread.

 _Does she think I abandoned her?_

Abruptly, he realized at some point he had. He stopped searching for her because he saw her everywhere… and it hurt.

He gripped his biceps and collapsed, bowing until his forehead touched the ground. Tears leaked from under his mask. He sobbed, broken anew. Somehow, his belief she was still alive somewhere, even if it wasn't here, corrupted.

 _How did I let that happen?_

"I tried to protect ya," he gasped. "I promised that night when Don brought me back, I wouldn't let time erase us. I swore to hold tight to everything we were, so you wouldn't fade, but you slipped away."

He sat up, wiping his face and stared at the sky.

"I cling to yer image just ta get through the day. You're with me wherever I go, whatever I do. I can't help thinking you're reaching out for me, but every time I reach back, you fade into the shadows."

He shivered as the light caress of the wind over his shell haunted him with memories of her gentle touch.

"But there's a reason for that, ain't there? Cause I haven't really been searching for you. I've been looking for a figment of the past. The girl I saved this evenin'? She coulda been your twin, but she looked like ya did then, a teenager. Not the grown woman you are now."

He rose to his feet and drew a sai.

"Tonight I saw ya perfectly clear. Somehow, you found your way back to me and I– I let ya down _again_. I didn't try hard enough..."

He slashed his left hand across the palm, watching the red liquid well before pressing it flat against the small altar placed beneath her portrait.

"I swear by my blood, by your life, by all I hold dear. I won't hesitate again."

He sheathed his weapon and wrapped a long piece of gauze around his hand.

"I'm comin' for ya, Jenna. An' god help anyone who gets in my way."


	6. Escape

**Escape**

Jenna stared into the semi-darkness around her, wishing she knew the time. Her tentative plan would work better if she could count on the number of staff being reduced due to a late hour. But night time or not, she would have to act soon. Her injuries were taking their toll, her energy slowly fading.

An air vent lay in the floor. It was large, square and—if she could work out the screws holding it in—she might be able to use it to escape the bell jar.

 _Time to take inventory._

One apartment key on a lanyard; headphones looped behind her neck; a single jumbo paper clip wedged into the lining of her pocket; the necklace she always wore; and dryer lint. Plus the remaining wood from one, now destroyed, chair.

 _It's not a lot, but then I didn't know I'd need survival gear on my run this morning._

The people holding her captive had not offered any first aid, so she sacrificed her only piece of furniture for a makeshift splint. Cumbersome and unwieldy, it consisted of a couple of wooden chair legs, her belt, and some strips from the hem of her shirt, but it kept everything in place.

 _Sort of._

Jenna was surprised she could make one at all with such limited supplies. And she couldn't recall anyone ever teaching her how. But as she jury-rigged the supports, a flash of violet appeared behind her eyes. She strapped the contraption to her shin with the confidence of one who had done this kind of thing before.

The key was too thick to fit in the slot of the nearest screw, so she opened the heavy duty metal clip into a triangle. Using a flat side, she loosened them all. Her next challenge, removing the heavy vent, proved more difficult. Eventually, she managed to get one of the chair slats jammed into the fins. The length of wood, with a block underneath, gave her enough leverage to pry the grate out of the way.

She stuck her head in the hole. A rectangular metal passage ran all the way across the room and through the wall. With a deep breath, Jenna lowered her body into the cramped opening feet first. She barely fit. As she slid through the claustrophobic tunnel, she found herself wishing she still had her cell phone, if only for the flashlight function. She snorted at the thought.

 _If it hadn't been confiscated this would not be necessary..._

She scooched along until her feet encountered a firm surface. Another grate. This one was vertical and the room on the other side was dark.

Kicking off the cover with her good leg, she twisted to her stomach and slithered clumsily down. The fall was at least six feet and she landed hard, hissing in pain. Red spattered over the floor.

 _Damn it! I'm going to need a crutch if I want to get out of here._

And she had to stop the blood trail. Her leg wasn't seeping as much with the splint, but the fewer traces she left behind the better.

She glanced around. This small room was more utilitarian, some sort of janitorial area. A quick rummage through the lockers and cupboards yielded items she actually recognized.

Grabbing a mop with an oval handle, she slammed it in a locker door. The top broke in half, leaving her with a 'u' shaped arm rest. When she unscrewed the cleaning end, she had a decent support.

Microfiber scrubbing pads were the best she could do for bandages. She wrapped several of the thin absorbent sponges around the bottom of her jeans and tied them off with the lanyard from her keychain. Now she wouldn't drip all over and give herself away.

Jenna washed her bloody hands in the sink and with her new support, ventured into the hallway. The walls, the ceiling, the doors, the floors—everything looked exactly the same. The building was a maze and despite all the technology, nothing here resembled a phone.

 _How am I supposed to find my way out of this?_

She passed room after useless room as she limped along the curving corridor. Finally, she stopped and stood still, numb and staring. Shock and blood loss were catching up to her, slowing her thoughts to a sluggish crawl.

Jenna stood swaying on her feet until a flash of blue broke her out of her trance. A voice whispered in her head. Cool and calm, it offered advice and instruction.

 _"Your best option, your strongest weapon, will always be your mind. Take a moment to focus. Assess your surroundings. Watch your enemy from the shadows. You may see something which will help."_

The hiss of a door opening gave just enough warning for Jenna to duck inside the room across the hall. She peeked through the window and saw a single lab tech in a white coat. Luckily, he didn't see her.

He approached a display panel and spoke to it, requesting a location. A holographic map appeared beside him. He raised a small device with a screen roughly the size and shape of a cell phone and the route transferred to it. He walked off, following the path.

 _I need one of those! If I can't make a call, it can lead me out..._

This room resembled an office with hollowed out ovals for desks. Maybe there was one in here. She hobbled over to the nearest and ransacked the drawers. Nothing. She headed to the next. Still nothing.

 _Is this worth it? I'm wasting time!_

Any moment they might find her gone. She glanced nervously at the door and froze. Right next to it, a whole rack of the devices was mounted on the wall.

She shuffled over, picked up the first with shaking hands, and almost screamed in frustration when the welcome message was gobbledygook. The second was identical. Tears filled her eyes by the time she freed the third from its clip, but a flare of violet and a smooth, intelligent voice came to her rescue.

 _"Technology is inherently created to make life easier. That gives its construction a certain logic. If you can locate a button alone, it's probably power. Hold it down and press another at the same time. It may take a few tries, but you'll most likely get a restart sequence. That's where you'll find the help function."_

Jenna followed these novel instructions and discovered a way to change the language setting. Almost giddy with relief, she scrolled down to the 'English' option. With her new technology in hand, she checked the hall and slipped out to download her map.

* * *

It was still night when Jenna reached the outside world, but false dawn had begun to lighten the sky in the east. She never did find a phone, but after some technical difficulty, the device she purloined guided her to an exit.

Unfortunately, that hadn't been the end of her troubles. The strange spherical building was underground and tunnels stretched away from it in all directions. She picked the nearest and fought her way up.

Climbing had been hard with a broken leg, but sheer grit and determination brought her to the top. Surprised to find she was still in Central Park, she limped to the edge of the green space and wandered out into the city, lost in a fog of pain.

It took a few blocks for her to notice something odd about the scene around her. Nothing she could point to specifically was wrong, but a lot of little things had changed.

It was quiet, too silent for the city—even at this early hour. There were fewer lights. The roads were practically empty. The people she did see crossed the street when she tried to speak to them. Their behavior timid, as if it were dangerous to be out.

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she thought the car shapes were different. And the skyline was off. She made out the Empire State Building, the Chrysler, and Rockefeller Center in the distance, but others she didn't recognize. All of the sudden she wasn't sure this was _her_ New York.

Pain flared in her leg and across her back, reminding her that regardless, she had to keep moving. Her shin needed to be set properly, and something besides the pieces of an old chair ought to hold it together.

 _I really should get to the hospital._

She headed toward a busier intersection, hoping to hail a cab or find a police car. Heck, at this point, she would settle for another pedestrian with a cell phone.

Motion reflected in the window of a store caught her eye. Some guys headed her way down the street. Her joy at people acknowledging her turned quickly to fear as she realized this group was not going to help. They sauntered toward her at a deliberate pace, faces fixed in dark sneers as they scanned her up and down.

An injured woman, alone in the night on the streets of New York City was easy prey.

She hurried her steps, hobbling to a lit subway entrance which looked familiar even in these unusual surroundings. They let her stumble away, certain the quarry was simply wearing herself out.

Jenna nearly fell down the stairs in her rush, grateful she did not encounter any of the normal locking gates. She didn't have a Metrocard to get past them. Stifling a pain filled gasp with every step she took, she inched her way toward the platform, seeking help.

 _Shit! Nowhere to hide and no one else in sight._

Basic turnstiles, the kind from old movies, stood between her and the tracks. With no way to make it over the obstacles, she swallowed her pride and crawled underneath them, dragging her bad leg. The jarring caused her bandages to slip and the slow bleeding began anew.

Desperately, she checked the sign displaying the wait for the next train. Ten minutes. She didn't have that, or time to repair her rudimentary first aid. Those men were right behind her. She needed to get out of sight now.

A flash of orange drew her attention left. She turned, but whatever it was had disappeared. When she crept to its location, a ramp led into the darkness of the tunnel. Swallowing apprehensively, she followed her instincts and limped down.

 _What now?_

Jenna ruthlessly quashed her panic and closed her eyes. As odd as it seemed, she felt grounded in this stretch of subway. Almost safe despite the sooty, ammonia smell. Orange flared again in her mind's eye and a cheerful voice explained how the complex passageways interconnected.

 _"The transit tunnels are marked on the walls in yellow. When they start to cross with utilities you'll see red stripes as well. From the red, you can reach the sewers and drainage systems. They have numbers carved on top of the arches, but they're the hardest to navigate cause they have big gaps you have to jump. It's best if you stay in the others as much as possible. But there's a trick to it, see? All you have to do to find us is remember this sequence..."_

Jenna had no idea where the thoughts came from, but if she kept her eyes closed it was almost like she knew her way around. Collecting all the energy she had left, she set off into the darkness—following a trail of long suppressed memories.

* * *

Morning broke while Jenna staggered through the tunnels. It hadn't taken her long to go from the subway to the sewer system, and each storm drain she passed let in a barrage of early sunlight. She shielded her eyes and hurried in such places so as not to be light blind in the tunnel beyond.

The threatening men had lost her trail, but her pace had slowed so much she wasn't sure it was worth the effort of going any further. The pain in her leg gradually engulfed her entire being, until her pulse beat like a drum in her head. Fresh scabs pulled across the skin of her back and her make-do crutch rubbed her underarm raw.

Back near the start of her underground wandering, Jenna had lost her improvised bandages. She also fell a couple of times into the brackish water in the pipes. It didn't take a medical degree to know that was bad. Exhausted, she struggled on, holding onto the hope she would find friendly faces at the end of this strange journey.

The tunnels around her grew ever more familiar. She was getting close to... wherever she was headed. The thought of resting made her almost sob, but she decided to push on. If she sat down now, she would never get up again.

She rounded the next corner and there it was. A wooden door, out of place in this stone tunnel.

So dizzy she could scarcely stand, she leaned wearily against it, too tired to note its deteriorated condition. With a last surge of energy, she pulled it open and stumbled in, propping herself on her crutch.

After forcing her feet onward for so long, confusion overcame her at the effort required for stopping. Belatedly, she realized something was wrong.

 _It's quiet. Far too quiet._

Jenna raised her eyes and took in the dilapidated state of the place, uncertain what she had been expecting. Obviously, people had not been here in some time. The air tasted stale.

She moaned and listened as the sound echoed through the emptiness. Space she _knew_ had once been filled with the sounds of music and games, the homey scent of food, and the comforting presence of her friends.

 _More than friends. They were my family..._

But they were long gone. This was no sanctuary.

Despair rushed in and settled like a ball of lead in her stomach. She almost collapsed under its weight. With no energy left to climb out of the sewers, she wouldn't make it to a hospital.

A chill made her shudder and she swayed where she stood. The room began to grey around the edges.

 _Did I come all this way only to fail?_

Jenna bit back a dry sob. She was tougher than this. She visually searched the remains of the lair again, wondering why her mind chose such a peculiar word to describe the ruins around her.

 _Think. You have to remember something else._

A phone. There used to be a pay phone down here. She stumbled to the back of the room and began searching in the corner, pleading with whatever deity might be listening that she wasn't going insane; that this memory was somehow as reliable as the others had been.

Ripped off the wall, the outdated piece of technology lay buried in trash on the floor. Holding her breath she picked up the receiver and almost passed out in relief at the dial tone.

 _Who to call? The police? The fire department?_

She couldn't imagine explaining what she was doing, or how to get down here. Especially since she didn't understand how she found the place herself. But she didn't have anyone else's number.

Vision faded away for a second, then came back. She had to do something, even if it was a shot in the dark, because soon she was going to be unconscious. Her glazed eyes flicked over the surrounding walls once more, landing on some graffiti.

Amongst the usual sprayed on crap there was a startlingly detailed rendering of a flower. Blue, with a yellow center, outlined in gold.

 _A forget-me-not._

Jenna gasped and reached for the matching locket at her throat. She removed the necklace and compared it to the drawing. The flowers were precisely the same shape, angle, and color—except... She leaned closer.

Numbers were worked into the veins of each petal of the painting on the wall. Ten in all. With a shaking hand, Jenna reached out and pressed zero for the operator.

"NYC Information. How may I direct you?"

"I'd like to make a collect call to 809-738-1940," Jenna said, reading the numbers off while trying to control her panting.

"When you hear the beep please record your name, so the recipient can decide whether to accept the charges."

Jenna was beyond desperate now, hardly able to breathe, let alone think. She didn't know this number. Her name might mean nothing to them. What could she say to make someone pick up?

 _These people, the ones who lived here, they cared for me… and I— I loved them._

In her ear, the long tone sounded. She was out of time. Her mind was a complete blank. Yet her mouth opened without conscious direction. Words came out—broken by gasping breaths—but they sounded so far away she almost didn't realize they were her own.

"Leonardo."

gasp

"Michelangelo."

gasp

"Donatello."

gasp

"Rapha…"


	7. We meet again

**We meet again**

April's line rang out, shunting him over to voice mail. Donatello pulled the phone from his ear and frowned at the receiver. He hung up without leaving a message and dialed the number again. She should be up. She used the early morning hours to fit in her training and she was as rigorous about working out as they were.

This time, she answered on the second ring.

"Donnie, Thank god! I was about to call you."

"April? What's wrong?"

His voice rose in concern, attracting the attention of his siblings from the kitchen. Leonardo and Michelangelo drifted out from their breakfast to listen and he put the call on speaker.

"An emergency!" April exclaimed. "I got a call from the old lair."

"Old lair?" Don repeated in surprise.

"The original one from way back when I first met you, before the Shredder destroyed it. There's a girl—she's injured! You have to help!"

"Hold on a sec, April," Leonardo said, "We can't go barging in on some unsuspecting person, even if she is nosing around in our old home. She'll freak."

"I doubt it. She asked for you by name."

The brothers exchanged confused glances. All of their human friends knew how to contact them. A horrible suspicion rose in Donatello's mind, but he dismissed it as utterly improbable.

"Who is she April?" Leo asked.

"No one I know. She said her name is Williams? Jenna Williams."

Mikey's mouth dropped open, Leo's eyes widened then narrowed as they stared at one another.

"How is that possible, Don?" Leonardo asked.

The genius shook his head. He hadn't had a chance to tell them of Raphael's revelations, or his own misgivings.

 _One lone girl couldn't escape from the Foot Clan and end up there... unless they planted her._

"April, we'll be right there," Donnie said. "We'll meet you at the old crossroads. Don't go in without us. It might be a trap."

* * *

Donatello fired up the sewer slider and the three of them piled on. As they cruised up the pipe, he filled his brothers in on Raph's vision from the night before and his own conclusions. Apparently, he was getting his wish after all, an opportunity to make this woman disappear before Raphael encountered her.

"But what if she _is_ Jenna?" Michelangelo asked, his gaze pleading.

"I know you miss her, Mike. We all do, but there's no way this is real," Don said. "The probability of this woman actually being our missing Jenna is less than 0.0004 percent."

"Don't quote numbers at me like I'm an idiot, Donnie," Mikey said with a frown, "We never found a body, and _you_ were the one who said dimensional portals are involved. What if she was taken somewhere and couldn't get back?"

 _As if I wouldn't have included that in my calculations._

"Intra-dimensional, Mikey. That means inside our world, not outside. And in ten years don't you think someone would have reached out to us if they had her? Even just to gloat!"

Donatello hated being the naysayer. He wished this was Jenna too. Nothing would make him happier than finding out she was alive. Nothing. They had been close. He confided things to her he never told another living soul and mourned her for a long time. But, despite all the improbable events he'd seen in his life, he couldn't bring himself to believe this.

 _I can't afford to have my hopes dashed again either._

He pressed his lips together in a hard line and flipped a switch to set the slider into silent hover mode. They were almost on top of the old lair and he didn't want to announce their presence to anyone who might be lurking in ambush.

Regardless of their conflicting feelings, Leo and Mikey would keep a sharp eye out. None of them wanted April caught in the crossfire if this was an elaborate ruse. Don would have preferred she stay out altogether, but there was no way after the phone call. If he hadn't specifically cautioned her against it, she would already be in there.

Instead, she met them a few hundred feet up the tunnel, well out of sight of the door. Marks in the debris showed she'd been pacing, a sure sign her patience was wearing thin.

"Where's Raph?" April asked, keeping her voice down to avoid echoes.

The brothers exchanged a loaded glance.

"Dude's kinda laid up at the moment," Mikey replied.

April shot him a worried look but let the subject drop as Leonardo took point, examining the floor intently. Donatello and Michelangelo followed behind, keeping April sandwiched between them.

Someone had definitely been through here. Footprints and odd scrapes led directly to the door and blood was mixed in with the dirt. The dark red droplets made Don pause. He needed to prepare himself before he saw the doppelganger.

 _She's not Jenna. Best case scenario she is simply a woman who needs our help. Worst, it's a trap._

They braced as Leo drew his swords and pushed the wood aside, ready for anything.

What they found was a larger blood pool, more of the same print and drag marks, and the decrepit pay phone dragged from a pile of trash. They peered into every corner, but there were no other signs of anyone in the vicinity. The space had been empty for a long, long time.

There was nobody in the room, but a second bloody trail ran next door. Donatello took a deep breath and stuck his head through the doorway. Flicking on his handheld glowlight, he proceeded cautiously, afraid of what he might find.

When they were younger, the brothers had shared this space as their sleeping quarters. The four giant dead-end pipes embedded a few feet off the floor were all they had needed for personal items and beds. It was haunting to see them now, piled high with garbage, sediment, and...

 _There is a LOT more blood in here._

The red liquid swirled in the storm water flowing through the center of the room, making it difficult to locate the origin point. With a sick feeling building in his stomach, Don leaned into each opening with his light until he found the source.

 _She's curled in Raphael's old bed!_

Donnie gasped at the sight and his own blood ran cold. She couldn't have chosen the spot at random. Raph's pipe was the farthest from the door and she had to maneuver around several precarious piles of debris to reach it.

 _Am I wrong? Could this be our Jenna?_

Hard to tell from this angle. All he saw was a bloody, mucky outline of a human body. He peered closer. Her chest rose and fell, but she did not react to the light.

April edged into the room at his gasp, passed him, and saw the body. With a small cry, she dashed in before he could stop her. She crawled into the pipe, hands roving over the still form, searching for a pulse.

"Donnie, she's still breathing! We have to get her out."

Donatello didn't move. His brain had shifted into neutral and stalled, overwhelmed by the emergence of such slim possibilities. Michelangelo and Leonardo pushed by him to tug the girl free of the enclosure.

"Don, if you're not going to help move out of the way," Leo snapped. He lifted her feet while Mikey supported her shoulders. "Let's get her back to the slider," he continued. "There's nowhere clean to put her down in here."

Michelangelo kicked Donnie in the shins as they passed by.

"What are you doing, bro?" he shouted. "Even if she isn't Jenna, she's still hurt bad. She needs your help!"

Donatello shook himself. He followed the others back to the vehicle and pulled out his medkit while Leonardo started the engine. They were moving before he had a chance to examine her face.

April snatched the light and held it over them, but it was hard to see anything through all the grime. She was a disgusting mess from head to toe. Don cracked open a water bottle and cleared the space around her nose and mouth so she could breathe more easily.

He checked her pulse. The beat was slowing. He needed to get her back to the lab—now.

"Speed it up, Leo!" he roared to the front.

Leonardo glanced back, surprised by the desperation in his brother's voice. Whatever he saw on Don's face was enough to make him put the pedal to the floor, taking the corners at dangerous speeds until they came to rest abruptly in the parking bay outside their home.

Donatello scooped the young woman up, heedless of the filth, and sprinted for his lab; leaving a trail of blood and mud behind him. Whether she was or wasn't Jenna didn't matter right now. She was bleeding out in his arms.

 _I won't let her go without a fight._

Michelangelo shot into the room after him and cleared the medical table with one swift swipe of his arm across the surface. Tools and books hit the ground, but Don didn't spare them a glance as he laid her out flat.

"Mikey, I need the I.V. stand in the corner. Leo get me the fluid from the supply fridge and a clean needle."

While he dashed off commands like a general, Donnie used the remaining water in the bottle to wash off her right arm before reaching for the alcohol and iodine.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

When Donatello stuck his head out the lab door sometime later, everyone jumped to their feet.

"Is she ok?" Mikey asked over a chorus of other inquiries.

"She's stable for now, guys. April, can you come and help me clean her up?" Don asked.

He was about to duck back in when Leo called his attention back to the group.

"Donnie, is she... awake?"

Leonardo couldn't bring himself to ask the question he really wanted to, but it was easily inferred from the hesitation.

"Not yet."

The leader frowned and Donatello let out a long sigh. He was not going to get away without giving a complete report, but he didn't have an answer for the unspoken question—"Is she Jenna?"

Well, actually, he did; but he didn't want to voice it. The necessity of action on the way home had jolted him back into his right, or at least more scientific, mind and he was once again sadly sure of himself.

 _Of course she isn't._

However, his brothers remained stunned by the whole situation. Best to let the subject lie for now and address it only when he had absolute proof via DNA. There was no use in starting an argument.

"She's in shock, lost a lot of blood, has a broken tibia, and a concussion. Plus, her shoulder and arm are lacerated from the crutch"—Don shook his head—"There might be other injuries under the dirt I can't see. We'll probably have to admit her to a hospital. She's going to need surgery for the leg and antibiotics to ward off infection. It looks like she fell more than once in the sewers, and there's no telling how far she dragged herself to reach the lair."

"1.75 miles. She came from Central Park."

"What?"

Everyone turned to Michelangelo in surprise and he held up a small device.

"This was with her when we pulled her out. It has some sort of mapping function."

He tossed the electronic unit to Don, who huffed in irritation and immediately turned it off, taking out the battery in case it had a tracking program as well.

"I'll check this out when she's settled," he said, "April, let's get her cleaned up. Leo, can you find someplace to put her temporarily when we're done? The lab's too drafty. She needs a real bed. Mikey, monitor Raph. I don't want him waking up and barging in here."

They nodded and went off to do as he asked while April brought hot water, several buckets, sponges, and a whole pile of towels into the lab. Together they stared askance at the filthy form in front of them, before each attacking a separate part with soap and water.

April waited only a few seconds before she broke the silence.

"Donnie, you guys obviously recognized the name, so who is Jenna Williams? And why did you think her phone call was a trap?"

Donatello sighed as he removed the patient's running shoes and socks. He could hardly have expected April not to be curious.

"Jenna was a girl we met a long time ago," he began, "a frequent visitor. We were all fairly close to her, but Raph—"

April stopped scrubbing and her head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"She's Jen? Raph's missing girlfriend? The one who fell off the building? He told me a lot about her before the accident, but I never knew her full name. I thought she... died?"

"She did!" He smacked a hand against the table in anger.

 _Why do I have to be the one to keep reminding everyone of that?_

He dropped his head, ashamed of the rare show of temper, and tried to swallow the huge lump choking him. April rested a soapy hand on his forearm.

"Don?"

"Sorry"—Donatello cleared his throat and looked away—"This isn't her. _This_ woman is the reason Raph is... unwell today. He thought he saw Jenna hurt in a vision last night, but it wasn't a vision. Not really. I think it was a portal. I made the mistake of telling him so."

"He lost it?"

April's eyes betrayed her tension and Donatello nodded, rubbing a palm over his face wearily.

"I had to sedate him."

April dropped her sponge to the floor. She stooped to pick it up, trying to cover her shock and dismay, but Don wasn't done.

"Raph... almost didn't make it last time. Well, you remember," he added in a whisper. "I can't let that happen again."

"So this can't be her?"

April's gazed traveled sorrowfully over the pitiful figure in front of them as Donnie shook his head.

"Karai's work, presumably. She was there the night Jenna disappeared. Knowing the time of year, she most likely kidnapped the first person who came along who resembled Jenna and forced her into this plot to drag us out of hiding.

"The poor woman probably didn't have a choice, but whatever her role, she didn't sign up for this. She hasn't seen us, so I'll patch her up for now and we'll drop her at a hospital somewhere out of state. Then I guess we'll try to smooth things over with Raph."

They continued their work in silence. Donnie could tell April didn't approve of his plan, but he also knew she remembered what Raphael was like when he went off the deep end. And she always, _always,_ put their welfare before her own personal feelings. He didn't need to convince her to go along with it. She would do anything to help keep Raph sane.

Slowly, the muck and dirt dissolved away under their combined hands and a pretty young woman began to emerge. April washed her hair while Don concentrated on her face. They cut away most of her rank, sewer soaked clothing and covered her with a sheet, but he had to leave the back of her shirt for the time being. The fabric was glued to her skin.

They turned her carefully and Donnie removed the rest of her jeans and the impromptu splint to examine the broken leg. The bone wasn't set, but she had done a good job bracing the support. She tied the knots in just the right places so it carried the majority of her weight, limiting additional damage. He couldn't help being impressed.

 _I don't think I could have done better with these supplies._

She was lucky. It was a transverse fracture, a clean near 90-degree break without any shards, but the end had punctured her skin before it withdrew, leaving her open to a risk of deep bone infection. He could align the pieces and brace it more thoroughly, but she would need a titanium rod and crutches for weeks before she could put her full weight back on it.

Frankly, he was surprised she got as far as she did before collapsing. She was one tough cookie.

 _Just like Jenna._

Donatello sighed and concentrated on the wound. He was trying hard not to look too closely at their patient as a whole, because the cleaner she got, the more she resembled the girl of his memories. Even quick examinations were starting to affect him.

He glanced up to check on April's progress but his eyes locked on the features of the unconscious woman and he couldn't help making comparisons. Her hair was the wrong color, but that meant nothing with the range of dyes available today. The bone structure was what counted, and hers was so similar to Jenna's as to be identical.

 _It's not her._

The lips were slightly fuller, but they had the same little off center quirk to them. The twin of the one which made Jenna seem like she was always seconds away from a smile.

 _It's not her._

When he checked her pupils for dilation, her eyes were a perfect color match—a light, green-gold hazel.

 _It's NOT her._

The reminder was less effective the more he repeated it.

 _I can run the DNA profile when we're done to be sure, but it can't be true._

Despite the insistence of his thoughts, Donatello realized he was deliberately sidetracking himself. Putting off the inevitable confirmation that this wasn't Jenna by searching for visual proof; rummaging around in the medical box for more gauze; doing anything except taking a blood sample to administer the test.

Somehow, hope had snuck up on him.

 _It's impossible._

The girl in his memory refuted the words as soon as he thought them.

 _"Nothing is impossible, Donnie"—Jenna protested as she helped him with his research. She smiled her devastatingly, impish grin—"It's in the very word: I'm possible..."_

No matter what his brain said, his heart wanted her back.

"Don, you better take a look at this."

He was so lost in his mental argument, he jumped when April called his name. She had been soaking the shirt off the patient's back with warm water and her expression filled him with dread. He dropped what he was doing to join her as she peeled the final pieces away.

A pair of bloody gashes crossed her back, reopening as April removed the cloth. The spacing and depth made him hiss in angry recognition. He used to treat his brothers for this particular injury a lot before the Shredder was defeated.

But that wasn't the reason for April's anxiety. She gestured away from the slashes to the rest of the skin. His mouth dropped open in shock.

Silvery scars ran all across the surface. The healed remains of short controlled slices stretched from shoulder to shoulder, collarbone to waist, in square groups of five. As if she had been used as a scoreboard in some hideous game.

Donatello traced a finger gently over one and exchanged a horror filled glance with April. They were old, not a part of what happened to her recently, but they ignited a burning spot of anger deep in his gut.

"I've never seen anything like it," he muttered.

Even if the woman hadn't been looking more and more like Jenna, he would have been outraged. Deliberate abuse lit his fuse faster than anything else, but he couldn't do much about the scars, and they wouldn't know more unless they questioned her. For now, all he could do was bandage her bleeding back.

They resumed their separate tasks, more subdued than ever before, but the mystery woman had one more surprise waiting for them.

When April finished cleaning her left wrist, she discovered a small tattoo on the inside. It was simple. Less than half an inch high and perhaps two inches wide. A dark silhouette of four objects followed by a single kanji character.

Donatello blinked and blinked again, his mind refusing to process this revelation on the first try. An odd noise filled the room, distracting him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the black shapes so permanently embedded in her alabaster skin.

 _A sai. A bo. A nunchuck. A katana._

And a symbol which tore his heart into tiny bits with its meaning.

 _Faith..._

It took him three whole seconds to realize the hoarse choking sounds filling the room came from his own mouth. Great heaving sobs that wrenched his chest.

His body moved before his brain could catch up with events. He snatched up the young woman's palm and pressed it to his cheek. Hysterical tears ran down his face.

The DNA test became irrelevant.

Without a shadow of a doubt, she was Jenna Williams.


	8. Alive

**Alive**

Dawn forced him underground but Raphael continued to roam, restlessly choosing a path at random through the seemingly endless tunnels of the sewers. His thoughts whirled.

 _How am I supposed to make it through the day?_

Jenna was alive. Her imaginary ghost no longer comforted his mind.

 _I gave up. I left her there... with HIM. What was I thinkin'? Why didn't I act? He's probably torturing her!_

Desperate to find her, he didn't have a clue how to go about it. Donatello said that thing was a portal, so she could be anywhere. Literally anywhere.

 _The west coast... China... Heck, she could be on the moon for all I know._

Her surroundings hadn't helped. The white room was obviously some sort of high-tech lab, but despite a nagging sense of familiarity, he still couldn't place it.

 _Wish Don had seen it._

Labs were his brother's specialty. He might have identified something to narrow down the possibilities. But if he couldn't locate her—rescue her—there was another option.

 _Contact Karai. Propose a trade. Me for her. If the Shredder really is back, he'll jump at the chance to hold one of us. Hell, he'll wet himself in excitement if I surrender..._

His phone buzzed on his hip. He glanced at the screen and frowned. There were multiple texts. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the alerts. They started out innocently enough, Mikey's casual speech crossed effortlessly into such messages, but things escalated quickly. The most recent were only minutes apart.

'Dude, missed you at breakfast, you ok?'

'Covered for you at training.'

'You're worryin' me, dude. Where are you?'

'Leo's on the warpath. Call in soon, will ya?'

The last one, from Fearless himself, was a two-word command.

'Home. Now.'

Raphael groaned aloud, but he picked up his pace, lurching into a ground eating jog. He couldn't pursue his plan if Leo put him on lockdown. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes to return to the lair. He hadn't strayed all that far.

Expecting to be accosted as soon as the bricks slid open, he braced, but the main room was blessedly empty. He managed to reach his bedroom and was changing his stained mask before there was a knock on the door.

"Raph?" Leo called. "Open up."

Raphael waited a beat then jerked the door open just as his startled brother raised a hand to knock a second time.

"What do you want, Fearless?"

Leonardo frowned at the brusque question. His gaze flicked down the hall toward his own closed door and back to Raph's uncovered amber eyes before he responded.

"Don told me about what you saw last night. I want to know if you're ok."

The searching look Leo gave him made Raphael extremely uncomfortable. Not the normal irritation at finding him absent, nor the sort of understated disapproval he wore when Raph did something he didn't like. It was probing, yet full of compassion.

Guilt stabbed at him for even considering leaving his brothers, but if that was what it took to save Jenna...

"I'm fine," he deflected. "Just needed some air."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

The single word answer was so quiet and unlike him, Leo's head snapped up.

"Raph, I know the vision must have come as a shock—"

"Portal," he corrected in a rough tone. "Don said the window was a portal."

 _She's alive, brother mine. And don't you forget it._

"Right."

Leo agreed a little too quickly and Raphael stared hard at him.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I do... It's just- difficult to get a handle on."

Leonardo gave him a small smile but Raphael wasn't buying it. Leo was fishing for something. Afraid he might inadvertently reveal his thoughts, Raph did what he normally did in such situations; pushed his brother away.

"Whatever. You actually need somethin' or did ya just summon me home for shits an' giggles?"

Leo's face hardened and Raph instantly felt more secure. An arrogant pissed off Leo was familiar territory, but he didn't want to push it too far. He needed the leader to look after Jenna when she got free.

"Don gave you a pass at training this morning, but it doesn't excuse you from the rest of the chores today. We did your regular ones already, but the slider needs cleaning, that ought to make up for it."

Raphael groaned again, but Leonardo's face was set, a fair indication there was no getting out of it. Besides, he couldn't leave the lair to contact the Foot until after nightfall and if he completed his 'punishment' maybe Leo's suspicions would be appeased.

Idly, Raph wondered what kind of mess the genius made this time. He was always bringing home found objects; large and small. Most of them weren't very clean.

"Splinter's meditating, but he and Don want to talk to you after, so don't take too long."

Raph's blood chilled at the thought of facing Splinter while harboring a hidden agenda, then he hardened his heart. He would lie to his father if he had to. He'd left Jenna suffering for far too long already.

 _I won't betray the family, though. This will be a straight on trade. Jenna's freedom for mine._

But, maybe the situation wouldn't come to that.

 _Maybe Donnie'll figure out what to do next._

He nodded tiredly, grabbed a clean mask off the dresser and stumbled down the stairs towards the living room. Leonardo lingered in the hall to make sure he went in the right direction and Raph grumbled to himself. The leader was still on alert.

Michelangelo called a cautious 'hello' from the couch in front of the TV. He waved a grumpy hand in reply. He stumbled blearily into the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes, and tried to put Jenna out of his thoughts as he crunched his way through a bowl of cereal. It was past noon, but he didn't have the energy to make anything more complicated.

Basic nutrition accomplished, he headed straight to the supply closet; expecting this to be a dirty job or Leo wouldn't have assigned it. He opened the door and stared a moment. The buckets were missing and all kinds of items lay scattered on the floor. Someone had dug frantically through the contents.

Raphael peered around suspiciously and caught Mikey watching him with slanted eyes. Though the trickster immediately glanced away when Raph turned toward him.

"Hey, Mike," he called. "What happened? Where are all the buckets?"

Missing buckets usually meant Raph needed to watch every door frame in the lair for balanced pails of paint, or other nefarious contents.

 _You'd think he'd have outgrown that crap by now..._

"Uh, Don's lab, I think," Mikey replied with a guilty start. "He, uh... Some experiment made a mess."

Raphael grunted. It figured. He gathered a couple of brushes and some cleaning solution before heading to the lab. He took a quick look around, wondering what exploded this time, but the room was spotless and the scent of bleach was overwhelming. He grabbed a bucket from the stack inside the door, wrinkled his nose, and left rapidly.

Mikey watched him cross the room to the walled area where the slider was parked and Raph fidgeted under his stare. Something was definitely up, but figuring out what required more brainpower than he wanted to give it.

Ignoring his younger brother, he poured water in the pail and climbed on the vehicle to survey the interior. Sewer sludge coated the floor, the rear seat, and the tray they used to tie down their gear.

 _Whatever Don brought home was big and covered with nasty._

Raph sighed, dumped cleanser in the water, and set to work.

Hours later, he finished scrubbing the floor—thoroughly sick of the smell of sewage mixed with pine. The two did not combine well. And there was another fragrance he noted about halfway through. A coppery tinge which, if he didn't know better, he might have sworn was blood.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a clean towel to wipe the final bits of gunk from the seams where the back seat met the floor. As he pushed the cloth into the corners, something sharp poked through, stabbing into his finger under the nail. He jerked back, waving his hand with a curse. Luckily, it didn't break the skin, but the prick hurt like hell.

 _Damn it!_

Raph glared at the offending object. It was wedged in tight. Curious, despite himself, he pried it out with a screwdriver, wiped it with his towel, and held the golden thing up to his face for a better look.

Light caught on a blood red stone and gilded a small blue enamel flower.

Raphael clutched at his chest as his heart constricted painfully. His pupils dilated and he began to hyperventilate. He tried to call out but he couldn't catch his breath. Dropping to his knees, he seized at the seat in front of him, shuddering violently as his body struggled to cope.

His stomach rolled and he barely managed to stagger from the vehicle before vomiting all over the concrete floor. Gasping and panting, he squatted with his head between bent knees—

Until he recovered enough breath to scream.

* * *

Jenna shivered hard enough to shake herself awake.

For the past few hours, she could have sworn she heard voices. Voices which triggered swirls of blue, violet, and orange in her mind's eye. They argued quietly over her, but the words ran together into incomprehensible mush.

 _Something about telling somebody about me?_

She fought desperately to hold onto them, but they faded in and out with her consciousness.

When she eventually came to and pried her eyes open, she found herself in near darkness—staring at a red brick wall. Her apartment had exposed brick, it was one of the things she loved about her industrial loft, but they weren't shiny or dark, and they weren't in her bedroom.

Jenna shook again and curled into a fetal position, trying to stay warm. Moving hurt, but not as badly as the shivering.

 _Why am I so cold? Where am I? And why do I hurt so much?_

The harder she tried to remember, the faster her thoughts slipped away. Her head pounded, her whole body ached, and her leg throbbed.

The sound of a door creaking open made Jenna shut her eyes again, feigning sleep. But she couldn't suppress the shivering. A cool hand checked her forehead and another blanket was added to her bedding.

 _I must have a fever._

Her shudders ceased as the blanket did its job, but the presence didn't leave. Whomever it was settled into a chair nearby and started humming softly under their breath. The voice was warm, male, and most definitely familiar.

 _Who IS that?_

She didn't know too many guys in New York, and the few she'd dated since moving here weren't the type to care for her when she was ill. Besides, she knew this voice intimately. It warmed her as much as the covers.

Jenna turned cautiously to her back and hissed as it stung. An unfamiliar weight pinned her leg and something tugged on her arm. She cracked her eyes a bit. The pale light from a single lamp across the room scarcely reached her, but she saw an I.V. in the back of her hand.

 _Am I in the hospital? Did I have an accident?_

This wasn't like any hospital she had ever seen. It was too dark. And there wasn't enough equipment. The bed was comfortable but far too close to the floor for any medical institution. The sheets were soft but worn and the blanket was a rough wool.

Fragmented memories echoed back to her. The run, Shredder, the Technodrome, and intense amber eyes that tugged at her soul. The nightmarish slog through the city's underground seemed particularly surreal and she would have dismissed the whole thing as some sort of vivid nightmare, except her pain was far too real.

 _Did the kidnappers find me?_

She tensed at the thought, but this place appeared the exact opposite of all that frigid, white technology. But, where did that leave her? Confused and frightened, a muffled sob slipped from her lips.

The humming cut off abruptly.

"Don't worry, Jenna. I've got you," the voice murmured. "You're safe."

The cool hand returned to her forehead. She opened her eyes fully to see a heavily muscled arm extending into the shadows. It was green.

That should have made her more afraid, but once again what she felt was a strange sense of security. Her eyelids fluttered shut at his touch and a soft sigh escaped her. It was too hard to keep them open and this room was wonderfully peaceful, like home. Or at least how she always dreamed home would feel.

 _Nowhere I've ever lived felt this good._

She basked in the peace, soaking in the unfamiliar sensation of being cared for until it filled her entire being. Here, at last, someone wanted her.

A scream shattered her fragile equilibrium.

* * *

Michelangelo leapt from his seat in dismay, his posture rigid as Raphael's voice distorted with pain. The sound went on and on, echoing through the lair as he ran for the doorway, clutching his weapons in reflexive response.

 _What could Raph have possibly found to give us away?_

All of them had examined the slider before they decided it was a decent way to divert his attention. They needed time to agree on the best course of action, but something had gone terribly wrong.

Raphael staggered through the door before Mikey made it halfway to him—a small golden item dangling from his fist. Mikey's gaze locked on it and he froze, caught off guard.

 _That's the... The girl upstairs HAS to be Jenna!_

His brother stumbled and Mikey shook himself into motion, rushing to support him. He pulled an arm over his shoulder and half carried Raph to the couch. Leonardo dashed in as he held up the necklace.

"Where- Where did this come from?" Raphael demanded.

Before either of them could respond, a female scream sounded from upstairs.

"RAPHAEL! RAPHAEL PLEASE!" followed by, "NO! LET GO OF ME! RAPHAEL!"

Raph shot off so fast it was a second before Michelangelo realized he'd even moved.

* * *

Climbing the stairs three at a time, Raphael dashed upwards seeking the source of the sound. Adrenaline flooded his veins, jumpstarting his aching heart. That voice could have roused him from his grave, much less an emotional stupor. After Donnie's revelations about the portal, he would never ignore such cries again.

The noise came from Leonardo's room. He threw open the door, snapped on the light, and dashed inside—expecting another window. Glad, this time, his brothers were hot on his heels so they could see her for themselves.

 _Show 'em I ain't hallucinating._

What he didn't expect was to find Donatello frozen in the act of trying to contain a pale woman with dark hair—struggling to rise from Leo's bed.

The girl's panicked motions ceased as they came charging in the door. Raph's eyes riveted to her face as she turned. Her hazel gazed sent him reeling.

"Raphael," she said, softer this time. "You all right?"

She waited for his short nod, then her eyes rolled back into her head. She fainted dead away. Collapsing, she fell back on the pillows as Don tried to cushion her descent.

Raph began to shake as he staggered the few remaining steps to where she lay.

 _She's here. In the lair._

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, totally bewildered as feelings long suppressed collided with logic and left him completely turned around.

 _She's here! How the HELL did she get here?_

Her hand was solid, warm against his fingertips. He could feel her pulse throbbing in the veins of her wrist. He took a deep breath, trying to bring some order to his wayward mind, and her scent hit him like a battering ram. The taint of sewage still clinging to her couldn't cover it. She smelled exactly the way he remembered. This Jenna wasn't a vision, a dream, or an illusion.

 _She's real. She came back! She called to me! Donnie is takin' care of her. It's not a trick. Jenna is alive!_

"How— Where did you find her?" His voice was so choked he had to repeat himself. "Where has she been?"

He ripped his eyes from her face to question his genius brother who stood frozen on the other side of the bed. When Don didn't answer, Raph turned his gaze on Leo and Mikey, still in the doorway. Mikey held the locket discarded in the headlong rush up the stairs and his hand trembled slightly as he passed the necklace to Donatello. No one spoke, but all had tears in their eyes.

 _The others can see her! I haven't lost my mind._

Raphael peered once again into the face of the unconscious woman, then yanked her to him fiercely, wrapping his arms around her waist and wrenching her tight against his chest.

Donnie uttered a wordless sound of protest, reaching out a hand to prevent the motion, but he was too late.

A pain filled cry escaped Jenna's lips.

Raph froze. He pulled back slowly without letting go to examine her. Her skin was pale. Too pale. Almost translucent, and covered in bruises. A purple discoloration darkened the sensitive area near her eye and her cheek was swollen. An I.V. poked out of her right arm.

He twitched the covers back and swallowed hard. If he hadn't already lost his breakfast, the sight before him would have made him retch. The oversized t-shirt she wore concealed few of her injuries.

Her right leg was bandaged and confined in a splint. The bone must have pierced the skin for her entire shin and calf were wrapped. Despite the first aid, bright red blood seeped through. Her left arm and portions of her upper body were covered in gauze as well and the bruises continued everywhere he looked.

Raphael replaced the blankets and drew her more gently against him, tucking her head under his chin. He pressed a hand tenderly to the uninjured side of her face, holding her close, afraid someone would snatch her away again.

Internally, he raged at her condition, but there was no room for anger right now in his heart. Instead, he closed his eyes and bowed his head as tears rained into her hair.

"Jenna," he murmured, deep voice quavering, "where have you _been_?"

She whimpered, trying to respond to his tone. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't quite wake.

"I thought I'd lost you," he continued raggedly.

"Stay with me?"

The dazed plea in her soft voice nearly broke him. Her eyes were closed and her words slurred. She might not be aware of what is going on, but...

 _She's insane if she thinks I'm goin' anywhere._

Raph released her, only to rise and carefully pick her up. He seated himself in her place on the bed and leaned against the wall, setting her across his lap. Gingerly, he propped her injured leg to the side and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

Jenna snuggled into him, shivering and shaking. He cradled her in his arms, creating a protective cage of iron hard muscle and bone, sheltering her from the world. Her feverish warmth soaked through his plastron, matching the feeling that burned in his chest.

He shot Donnie a worried glance as he delicately stroked her hair, soothing away the shakes until she rested limply against him. He relaxed somewhat as her breathing eased.

"Don't let go," she begged as the pain and blood loss drained what little remained of her energy.

Raphael leaned down and pressed his lips to her head, answering in a fierce whisper:

"Never again."


	9. A Chance to Say Goodbye

**A Chance to Say Goodbye**

Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello left the room, though Don didn't stay away long. Guilt and concern drove him back in to check on her. He was met by Raphael's piercing stare.

Fire filled his brother's gaze. A flame Donnie had not seen in years. The family had fought constantly to keep the embers of that passion alive. Jenna fanned the spark into a wildfire with a few simple words.

 _But she's always been good with words._

"How did you rescue her?" Raph demanded, "And why didn't you take me? Did you see the Shredder? Did he do this to her? Were the Foot holding her all these years?"

He muted his angry roar for the sleeping girl in his arms, but it only made the questions more intense. The last was laced with agony and regret.

 _Raph has nothing to be sorry for. He never stopped looking for her. I did._

Don shook his head. He couldn't answer all the queries, but he responded to those he could.

"She found us," he replied, crossing to the bed to examine her.

Raphael growled and twitched Jenna from under his hand. Donnie tensed, holding his brother's gaze as he reached deliberately for her arm a second time.

"I can't treat her if you don't trust me to even touch her."

Eventually, the hot-head relaxed and relented.

"April got a mysterious call this morning from the old lair payphone," Don said, letting the tension pass. He checked her pulse. "We went to investigate and there she was, bleeding in the bedroom. She was alone and hasn't been awake long enough to answer any questions about how she ended up there. I couldn't tell you how she got April's number. I didn't think the girls ever met."

"The dreams," Raph muttered.

"Come again?"

"She used to have a recurring nightmare she showed up at the lair and we were all gone. In the dream, we had abandoned her; left her behind. It's why I chose the forget-me-not."

Raph gestured to the locket on the nightstand before swallowing hard. His gaze pierced his brother again.

"After the battle with Shredder, when we moved and you... woke me, I went back to the old space. I couldn't bear the thought of her stumbling in there some day and finding it empty. I painted the flower on the wall, right next to the phone and hid April's emergency number in it."

Don's eyes shone with unshed tears at the tale. He vividly remembered the day Raph was talking about. It was right after their confrontation on the rooftop and he had been the one assigned to follow Raphael when the depressed turtle unexpectedly left the lair.

 _He trailed his brother to their old home and nervously waited outside the door, debating whether or not he should shadow him any further. Worried his actions the night before had pushed Raph too far. He might have shoved his sibling over the edge of whatever sanity remained._

 _What if Raphael came to this place, a place where Jenna's memories were strong, to end his life? Luckily, he hadn't. A few minutes later, the massive turtle strode out the door, renewed purpose in his step. That was when Donnie first detected the spark in his eyes. Traces of personality remained if they could only keep them alive..._

"It's her, Don," Raphael said.

The blunt statement brought Donatello back to the present. Raphael wanted to make it crystal clear Jenna belonged here. He didn't want her feeling estranged and he wouldn't allow his brother's doubts to upset her.

 _He needn't have bothered with the warning._

"I know."

Raph inhaled sharply, distrustful of the sudden about face. Donnie couldn't blame him. Just last night, he had been adamant this girl must be an imposter. A look-alike created by their enemies to deceive them.

"How?"

Don paused to marshal his thoughts.

"How she managed to escape from the prison you saw is still a mystery, but she got to the old lair unaided from Central Park, _underground_. That was one of the most convoluted routes. No way she arrived there by accident.

"She passed out in _your_ bed, despite it being difficult for her to reach.

"She remembered the payphone, dug it out of a pile of trash to make the call."

"And?"

Raph knew him too well. His tone always gave him away. There was definitely an 'and', but it wasn't one Don was ready to discuss.

"The locket?" Raph prompted.

"Well, she didn't have the necklace on when we cleaned her up. It must have fallen off when we brought her home, but she does have this."

Donatello gingerly lifted her wrist face up and exposed the small tattoo, smoothing his thumb over the markings. He watched Raph's eyes catch on the first image. A sai. His sai. Depicted in minute detail.

"I don't understand," Raph said. "I mean, they're our preferred weapons, but I'm sure you can think of a few dozen ways to explain them. Why do they make you so certain? Not that I'm complainin'."

 _A leap of faith. She believed in me, once. When I needed it most._

"It was... a conversation we had a long time ago," Don said, laying her hand back down on the blankets and patting it gently. He shuffled his feet and gathered the extra bandages from the table beside the bed. "Long story. I'll tell you about it some other time."

Don turned away, ashamed. Jenna never gave up on them, on him. The tattoo was a visible reminder of everything she held dear. And it wasn't just Raph. They were all represented in those tiny strokes of hope.

That she felt the need to place them permanently on her person told Don how desperate she was to return to them. Yet, he had given up on her. Why?

 _Because logic said she was gone. Because it was easier to grieve and move on. Because I couldn't face the possibility she might live and choose not to come back to us._

Donnie sighed. Silence fell as he bottled up the shame and remorse within him. He would have to find some way to atone for his lack of faith but, right now, there was a harder job ahead. He focused on the floor, knowing his next statement was not going to go over well. Leonardo and even Master Splinter had offered to explain, but it should really come from him.

"Raph... She can't stay here."

Raphael tensed and a crazed gleam lit his eyes. Donnie took a deep breath but refused to retreat from the anger and betrayal on his brother's face. This was the reason he and Leo had argued. The reason for delaying Raphael with the slider.

 _It would have been so much easier if we moved her while he was occupied! But Leo wouldn't have it._

Leonardo didn't see the fragile side of his brother, not the way Don did. Like tempered glass, Raphael had certain stress points. There was no telling exactly how he would react to this blow. He might rebound and accept the challenge—or he might shatter.

"You just agreed this was Jenna," Raph growled, half rising from the bed. He quieted himself forcefully when she stirred in his arms, but his eyes were unforgiving. "There's no way I'm letting her outta my sight. She's staying. You try to take her and I'll..."

"Stop right there"—The purple banded turtle held up a hand—"This has nothing to do with her identity. Jenna _has_ to go to the hospital. I've given her some fluids but she _needs_ a blood transfusion and more antibiotics than I've got."

Raphael was shaking his head. "You know more than most docs an' your tech is better than theirs. Send Leo or Mikey to get the stuff you need and you can treat her here."

Donatello blinked, surprised by the sterling recommendation, but it didn't soothe his ire. He _wanted_ to be able to cure Jenna, but his practical knowledge was more suited to mutant or alien anatomy. Basic first aid he could handle, but he simply didn't have the tools, or the confidence, to perform the surgery Jenna needed.

"It's not that simple, Raph," he snapped. "If it were, I'd have done it already." He lurched into frustrated motion, pacing frantically back and forth across the room.

 _How could the others live with me if I slipped up? Made a mistake and she died? I couldn't live with myself...Unlike us, she doesn't have to be restricted by what I can do. She's human._

In a hospital, this would be routine. It was a sterile environment with no fear of sewer contamination. A plethora of doctors and nurses would be on hand. Ones who dealt with broken limbs, blood transfusions, and infections every day.

 _But I still have to convince him of that._

"She has a rare blood type, 'O' negative. It's always in short supply so the hospitals keep it in a highly secured area. And then there are the antibiotics. Her bone tissue was exposed. She needs high-level stuff. The hospital will have access to more kinds than I do. Plus, I'm pretty sure she has a concussion and I _don't_ have an MRI to see inside her head. There could be bleeding in her brain. She could have a stroke or some sort of permanent damage!"

By the end of this tirade, he was waving his hands and nearly shouting. Raphael reared back in surprise. Very little rattled Don, but this entire situation shook him to the core and he wasn't afraid to show it. He narrowed his eyes.

"Besides, if you ever want to see her walk again, Jenna needs surgery."

Raphael stared at him as if his heart were breaking anew. His voice went hoarse.

"Is it really that bad, Donnie?"

"They'll put a rod in her leg, a pin at the least, but if they treat her, she'll recover." It pained him to admit it, but he added, "I just can't do it here."

Though his arms tightened around the sleeping girl, Raph's shoulders slumped in defeat. Don breathed a sigh of relief. His brother had risen to the challenge. He hadn't broken.

Donatello pulled out his phone and pushed a few keys.

"Then how should we do this?" Raph asked.

"We'll drive Jenna to the hospital," he said, spelling things out as clearly as he could. "April and Casey will carry her into the ER from the parking lot."

"But how are they gonna explain what happened? I mean, it's obvious we tried to help her."

"I'm going to say Casey and I saved her from an attack by a violent boyfriend," April said, entering and shutting the door. "And in an effort to keep him from finding her, we attempted to patch her up ourselves, but brought her in when things kept going wrong."

Don had texted her as soon as Raph realized the necessity of the situation. He needed all the backup he could get with an overprotective, and possibly ever so slightly homicidal, Raphael on his hands.

"Won't the police get involved?"

"I chose a private hospital which specializes in battered women. Many don't want to press charges, so it shouldn't be a problem. As long as abuse can be proven, they'll make sure she remains anonymous and she can stay in the secure wing with the extra guards," April answered with a sigh.

She'd been taking random girls they had rescued to the place for years. The doctors and nurses all knew her on sight, but she wouldn't tell Raph. In fact, up until this point, even Don hadn't known April did a lot of follow-up after their nightly patrols. Leo had kept that information to himself.

"Abuse?" Raphael's eyes narrowed and his voice once again became a growl. "How are you gonna prove that?"

Donatello met April's gaze apprehensively. He was against telling Raph about the scars on Jenna's back but she insisted. She thought it important he know everything. He'd been in the dark about Jenna for too long.

* * *

Raphael glared menacingly between the two as his big brother and sister held a silent argument with their eyes. He always suspected Jenna was suffering something but from who or where he didn't know. If she confessed to one of the others before her disappearance and they hadn't informed him, he was gonna go ballistic.

Don lost the staring contest and April approached the bed carefully. Raphael eyed her suspiciously then mentally kicked himself.

 _This is April. April, you idiot. She's not a threat. Knock it off..._

Without further protest, Raphael allowed her to lean the unconscious girl forward over his arm so she could reach the back of Jenna's shirt. A small tie held a slit in the neckline closed. Raph couldn't figure out why until April opened it and shifted the gauze underneath to one side. Jenna's skin was bandaged in places but that was not what caught his horrified gaze.

Marching across her back in neat rows and columns were scars. Nearly as many as he, himself had. Their positioning screamed they were deliberate and painful. His breath hissed in and he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together.

April replaced the dressing and tied the shirt so he could hold Jenna properly again, then backed away quickly. He wasn't surprised. He must appear insane with fury but he didn't care enough to tone it down.

"Who, or what did that?" he grated.

 _Someone is gonna pay dearly for it._

"I don't know," Donatello said. "April and I discovered them while we were cleaning her up this morning. They're old. None of the scar tissue is recent, so whatever it was stopped some time ago."

Raphael practically vibrated with rage. He wished Jenna was awake so he could demand an answer, but he was also glad she hadn't seen him like this, so totally consumed by his anger. It might frighten her away and he couldn't bear to be without her again.

Donnie fidgeted, drawing his attention.

"We need to take her now, Raph. Every minute we delay increases her chances of problems during recovery."

Raphael clutched Jenna to his chest and tried to slow his breathing. He had to put all his fury aside for the moment. What mattered now was getting his girl the best possible care, and if that wasn't Donnie...

 _So be it._

"Why don't we get the guys in the van," April suggested. "Raph, I'll be back in a minute when they're ready for us."

Don cast her a confused look as she escorted him to the door.

"They need a second alone," April whispered. "If he's going to survive this separation he has to do something he didn't get a chance to do before."

Donnie quirked a brow.

"Say goodbye."


	10. Under Guard

**Under Guard**

The drive across the city was blissfully uneventful. A fact Leonardo gave silent thanks for as they pulled into the entrance of one of the strangest hospitals he had ever seen. It was more like a manor house than a commercial building, set so far back from the main road only glimpses of it were visible.

As they traveled the winding drive, the three-story red brick structure came into focus. It was tall, with majestic windows overlooking the grounds. Two long wings of what Leo assumed were resident's rooms stretched off in either direction, a pale glow leaking through their curtains.

Michelangelo drove past the front doors to the back where a gleaming sign and spotlights shattered the darkness of early twilight, making the emergency room entrance as bright as day. He parked their unmarked van as far from the door as possible, in a corner of the lot filled with shadows.

April jumped down, slid open the side door, and met each of their eyes; her look a silent question.

 _Are you ready to restrain Raphael?_

She wasn't as confident of his compliance as she pretended to be.

Raph occupied the bench seat stretching across the back of the van, holding Jenna's limp form in a protective embrace. She stirred only once on the drive over, long enough to smile blearily and wrap her arms around his neck, though she didn't open her eyes. Raphael's hushed response was unintelligible, but the raw emotion on his face as he pulled her closer forced Leo to turn away.

All traces of that softness disappeared as Casey joined April at the door, reaching out for the unconscious girl.

"Raph," he nodded. "I got this."

"She ain't just another girl, Case," Raphael protested. His harsh breathing began to increase. "Not like those we help on the street. She's— Damn it!"

Leo and Donnie tensed and Raph eyed them suspiciously. Casey stepped closer to put a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't gotta say nothin, man. I get it."

"You do?"

"If she was in danger you'd take the world apart to keep her safe. Move heaven and hell if you had too. I feel the same way about April. I get it."

Raphael sighed, deflated by his understanding. In fact, all of them already knew how he felt.

 _How could we not after years of watching him grieve?_

Eventually, he yielded, placing Jenna in Casey's waiting arms and carefully removing hers from his neck. But, he watched with suspicious eyes as the humans hurried across the lot into the welcoming light of the building.

When they reached the door without issue and Raph hadn't pelted after them, Leo breathed a silent sigh of relief

* * *

They had only been gone fifteen minutes but Raphael was already wound tighter than a spring. The love of his life had returned after ten _years_ of unexplained absence, yet he only got to hold her for an hour before he had to give her up again.

He fidgeted in place. There was no room in the van to move and nowhere to escape the eyes of his brothers. They tried not to antagonize him, but he caught their stealthy glances and squirmed.

 _They're waitin' for me ta explode. Do somethin' stupid._

The same tense feeling of expectation surrounded him for years after Jenna disappeared. But she was back, and he wasn't going to do anything to put her at risk.

"We have intel on this place?"

The abrupt question made everyone jump, but Donatello pulled up some specs on his tablet and passed it over.

"It's a private hospital, totally off the grid. Independent power supply, water, you name it. Top of the line surveillance system. Took me five whole minutes to crack it"—Don sounded impressed at that—"There are four ground floor entrance doors under constant guard and a fifteen man mobile security team on the property at any given time. Everyone who walks in wears a tracking bracelet. Patient records are triple encrypted and listed under a false name."

"What the hell? Is it a government facility?"

"Nope, it's an above board hospital owned by the Winter's Corporation," Leonardo said. "You remember how paranoid he was..."

"Yeah, but how's April gettin' her in here? It must cost a fortune."

Leo shook his head. "April impressed Winters. He left standing orders in his will. She can request pretty much anything from one of his facilities. Mostly, she uses it to help other women"—he dropped his eyes—"the ones we're too late to completely save."

Raph sucked in a breath and nodded his understanding. It fit. April was that kind of person.

 _We're beyond lucky to have her in our lives._

"What about the grounds?" he asked, bringing the subject back to security.

"They're walled, but surveillance is limited to the building. The parking lot is covered, but outside the lights is a dead zone." Don said. He borrowed the tablet, pulled up the hacked cameras and handed it back.

Raphael flicked through the feeds until he found April and Casey in a waiting area, filling out paperwork. His heart skipped a beat when he realized they were no longer with Jenna and he rapidly clicked through the ER cameras until he located her.

Room twelve of intensive care was a steady hive of activity as doctors and nurses scurried in and out of the sliding glass doors. He could only see the top of Jenna's head and an occasional glimpse of her face as the people bustled around. One nurse drew blood for testing. Another cut off her shirt, the gauze, and existing bandages.

Raphael growled involuntarily at the image. The others peered over his shoulder to see the cause of his consternation.

"Easy Raph," Donnie said. "They have to take all that off to assess her. No one's going to take advantage."

"Damn right," he muttered, "Or they'll be eatin' my sai."

He shifted uncomfortably. Jenna looked so small and helpless lying exposed on the gurney and he fought the urge to barge in and steal her away again.

 _I can't help her now. These people can._

The nurses turned her over and Leo gasped at the sight of her bare back. Don had informed them of the old scars, but the twin slashes crossing them at an angle were unexpected.

They were all too intimately familiar with wounds like those.

"It was him, wasn't it," Raphael muttered. "Only Shredder's gauntlets make that perfectly spaced mark. Karai's are narrower."

In the past, they might have argued with him, but since Jenna reappeared, there was no reason the Shredder could not have escaped from his dimensional prison as well.

"He didn't send some underling after her. He did it all himself."

There was a long pause as the brothers observed the treatment of their lost companion proceed before Raph spoke again.

"I should have killed him."

* * *

Leaning against a tree underneath the hospital window, Raphael faded into the black, invisible in the night.

Jenna's room was on the second floor of the building facing the back side of the complex. As far away from the emergency room and the bright lights of the parking lot as April could arrange. It had a small balcony the family used to slip in and out at will, but right now he couldn't enter. One of the staff was taking her vitals.

He muffled an anxious sigh of frustration, flipping a sai impatiently and catching the handle again as he tried to hold on to his patience.

 _She's safe here. She'll be ok without me for another five minutes._

To the staff April was family, so she and Casey had access at all hours. Any others seeking her would be denied admittance. Not that Raph expected the Foot to ask for visiting rights. If they knew her location they would climb in the same way he did. But, one of the family was always stationed here during the night—if not in her room—keeping her under guard.

 _The rest are less than two minutes away._

He glanced out toward their camp, saw nothing, and smiled grimly.

 _Donnie really outdid himself this time._

Since Raph refused to leave the grounds, Don presented his latest invention. It had been created on technology reverse-engineered from the invisibility suits worn by the Foot Tech Ninjas and Mikey promptly named it the 'Turtle Tech Tent'. Raph would never have believed anything good could come from those guys, but the shelter was a wonder to behold, or rather, not to behold. And it was large enough to camouflage the entire clan.

Raphael had never been more grateful for his family, or their training. Twenty-eight years of living and working together made their team function like a well-oiled machine, at least when there was a mission involved and none of them were taking a chance on Jenna's safety.

Human security covered the complex during the day and, as soon as the room was assigned, Donatello added his own network of cameras, sensors, and laser trip wires around the perimeter. But no matter how often he repeated their precautions in his head, Raph never felt satisfied unless he was in the room—hovering over her sleeping form.

Abruptly, he tensed, sensing another presence nearby. The call of a night bird identified the interloper as friendly and Leonardo stepped out. He signaled he was taking a patrol around the front of the building before melting back into the darkness.

"Well, hello there sweetheart!"

Raph's head snapped up at the sound of a voice in Jenna's room. He scaled the tree in two seconds flat and inched toward the balcony on his plastron until he could see inside. The attendant checking on her was male. One he hadn't seen before. He growled under his breath.

The guy leaned in to take her temperature, but the thing which made Raph's heart beat faster was the fact that Jenna blinked and stared back.

 _She's awake!_

Seventy-two long hours, two surgeries, and a blood transfusion had occurred since those hazel eyes last fixed on him and he was desperate to peer into them again. But, the nurse wasn't rushing out. A ton of antibiotics and painkillers had kept Jenna out cold, so it was only natural for there to be some questions when she woke for the first time.

"Do you know where you are, sweetie?"

"No," Jenna's voice was hesitant and uncertain. She shrank away from the stranger, pushing back into the mattress. "Is this a hospital?"

"Yes, hon. What's the last thing you remember?"

Raphael held his breath, not knowing how aware she was at the moment. If she started spouting tales of mutant turtles the orderly might have her committed.

"I— I was hurt," she said at last. "I called"— she struggled, searching for the appropriate name, her eyes losing focus—"April."

"That's right," he said, voice full of patently cheerful praise. "Your aunt checked you in."

"How bad is it?"

"You have a black eye—but your cheekbone is intact. You also suffered a broken leg. And there's a pair of knife wounds on your back. You lost a lot of blood, so we gave you a transfusion. And you had a simple concussion. It should be better now, but let me know if you feel dizzy or have trouble seeing."

Jenna's eyes widened at the lengthy list until they virtually consumed her face, but she nodded, letting the comment about April being her aunt pass unremarked. Raph let out a small sigh of relief, but it was short lived. The next question made him tense all over again.

"Who did this to you?"

Raphael strangled the branch as he waited for her answer. She didn't have the 'official' story. She hadn't been awake for them to prep her.

Trembling shudders racked Jenna's shoulders and she squinched her eyes shut. "A man," she whispered, "attacked me in Central Park."

"Do you go there often?"

"Everyday. I run in the mornings."

"Is he someone you've seen before?"

Jenna fell silent but Raphael's blood ran cold, and not just because she admitted the truth.

 _She's been livin' in the city and didn't seek me out?_

"Easy Raph," Donnie's voice said in his ear as the Bluetooth headset he was wearing clicked to life. The genius obviously caught what was going on through his cameras and he didn't want Raph to do anything rash. "She's editing the story, remember? I'm sure there's a good reason she didn't contact us sooner."

"Your aunt thought it might have been your boyfriend," the nurse prompted. "Do you want us to call the police so you can give a statement?"

"N- N- No," she stuttered. "Please, I'm not ready."

He moved to lay a calming hand on her shoulder but she shrank away before his palm could touch. Raphael clamped his lips shut around a violent growl. His weight shifted unconsciously into an aggressive attack stance, but the man took the hint and backed off.

"Please," she begged, "can I just rest until my... aunt gets back?"

"Of course, one more question though. The trauma on your back crosses several old scars. Is there anything you'd like to tell us about them? They appear rather... precise, and we can't help wondering if they are related."

Jenna laughed and Raphael almost fell out of the tree. It sounded high and thin, a twisted noise out of one of his nightmares. It made his skin crawl. Near hysteria, she buried her face in her palms.

An expression of concern crossed the attendant's face and he injected a dose of something into her I.V.

Slowly she calmed. Her voice became slurred as the tranquilizer took effect. Without the overwhelming pressure of her emotions, it was easier for her to speak. Something she might not have admitted otherwise slipped past her lips.

"My father did that—stepfather, really," she murmured. "One 'reminder' for every time I got caught sneaking back into the house after leaving without permission."

The nurse staggered back aghast. Raphael nearly swallowed his tongue.

"There are more than a hundred!"

Jenna shrugged drowsily. "I'm told I was a very bad teenager."

"You're told?"

There was another long pause and Jenna looked confused.

"There was an accident when I turned sixteen. I fell from... somewhere very high. My memories from before are foggy"—She shuddered—"Except for him. Why do I remember all the pain he caused and nothing else?" Tears gathered in her eyes again. "I don't even know where I went when I snuck out... Only that he hurt me and locked me in a closet whenever I got back."

Raphael clutched the tree for dear life. He couldn't breathe. Her confession horrified him. He wanted, badly, to believe she was making the whole thing up, but the sick sinking in his gut and the slurring of her words made him doubt it.

Guilt reared its head and crushed his heart. He recalled all too well his fear that she was being abused, he just never realized how directly that suffering was tied to him. She sacrificed her personal safety every time she came to visit, braving extreme agony on the return home. And yet, she continued to do so, day after day for more than two years.

He had always wondered if she cared for him as much as he did for her. Now he had no doubt.

Fury overwhelmed him.

 _That bastard! If I ever meet him, I'll crush his skull. I'll choke the life outta him with my bare hands..._

Jenna's breathing hitched into soft whimpering and Raphael's eyes returned to her face. He was done with this stupidly long interview. This man had repeatedly made Jenna cry and he was gonna scream if he didn't get to comfort her soon.

Using all his stealth training, he eased himself down the branch toward the balcony, determined to find some way to extricate her from the situation.

 _I'll cause a scene down the hall. Set off one of the other patient's alarms, that'll make him leave._

The nurse murmured quiet platitudes and made several notes on her chart as Jenna wept. Attempting to settle her and divert her thoughts, he slipped in another question.

"Can you tell me about your tattoo?"

"I got it after the accident."

Her tears cut off as if controlled by a faucet and her lips turned down into a frown of concentration. She twisted her left wrist up and traced the weapons there, fingers lingering on the sai. As if drawing strength from the images, she drew herself upright—straightening her posture.

"These are important," she announced with the overloud confidence of the drugged. "I dream about them constantly. They were supposed to be in color, but I couldn't afford it. This one is red, then purple, orange, and blue. And this symbol means 'faith'. I didn't understand it until the tattoo artist told me. Weird huh? I just drew them like my dream, but he said it was faith."

"Are they reminders of people? Old friends perhaps?"

Raphael became a statue on the branch, waiting for her to spill out their names. Drugged as she was there was no way she was keeping their secret.

 _We'll have to pull her out unless April can spin it... She could blame it on the trauma or the tranquilizers._

Jenna slumped again, her expression lost. "I don't know. Maybe. I can't remember."

Raph's heart practically stopped beating and Donatello gasped in his ear.

"She doesn't know us?" Raphael breathed into his headset. "But she called to me in the lair! Hugged me in the van! She gave our names to April. She—"

"Calm down," Don's voice cut through the panic in his head. "All of what she's saying can't be real. You know the best lies are mixed in with the truth. Besides, she did have a concussion. This amnesia—if it is genuine—may be temporary. When the nurse leaves, you can ask."

"I can't go in there now! If she honestly doesn't remember me, she's gonna freak!"

Donatello sighed.

"The perimeter is secure. Mikey's calling April, so we'll let her do the questioning. You should return to camp until then. Leo can take over there—"

Raph clicked the headset off, effectively hanging up on Don. He wasn't going anywhere. Instead, he plastered himself to the branch, out of sight in the tree.

Amber eyes flaming, he stared at the woman he loved with all his heart. The woman who had once loved him in return.

Impossible as it seemed, she may not now even recall his existence.

A/N: If you like this story, please, please, please review. Your interest is what keeps me going. ~Shadow


	11. The Third Degree

**The Third Degree**

Jenna jolted awake and yelped as the abrupt motion sent a zing of discomfort across her back. The sensation felt so horribly familiar she almost burst into tears again but bitter anger swept the feeling aside.

 _This is entirely different. Johnne isn't here. Get ahold of yourself. More crying is not going to help._

She blinked rapidly at the wall in front of her, staring at—but not really absorbing—the details of a rather generic framed still life. When her eyes refused to focus on the painted flowers, she grimaced and knuckled them. Gritty salt from her previous bought of crying still clung to her lashes.

Blearily, she studied the remainder of her surroundings, trying to shake the effects of the tranquilizer. Eventually, Jenna decided the nurse who questioned her was real. And, he was truthful about her location. This was indeed a hospital.

The room featured all the medical equipment one would expect, but it was contemporary and not overly clinical. Long beige ceramic tiles laid on the diagonal softened the square edges of the floor. Cheerful paint in a buttery-yellow warmed the walls. The overhead lights were dim and a small lamp illuminated a tall wooden nightstand next to her elevated bed.

 _A private facility then?_

She grasped the crisp, white cotton sheets and peeked underneath. Her only clothing was a simple one-piece green gown. Unlike the disposable paper variety, this one remained solid across the back, tying only loosely at the neck. A high end, lightweight polymer cast encased her right leg from the knee down, rigid without being too constraining. On her wrist, a luminescent bracelet flashed a readout of her pulse and blood oxygen content at regular intervals, connected wirelessly to the rest of the room's electronics.

 _Definitely not a public hospital._

A light breeze stirred the drapes across the room drawing her attention. She had a window. An open one. Gazing blankly into the night outside, she drew in a deep breath of fresh air and reviewed her conversation with the orderly.

 _I revealed a lot... too much._

And yet, there was stuff she didn't even try to explain. Emotionally, she was in no shape to handle the disbelieving looks and cognitive speculation of someone new learning about her visions. She didn't want any more medication and she certainly did not want to speak to another mental health professional.

Experience taught her the hard way not to let such vital secrets slip under any circumstances, especially the influence of drugs. But apparently, she had tired of keeping her abuse under wraps—for that covert information spilled out when it never had before.

Pinpointing the reason was difficult, but ever since her nightmarish slog through the city's underground she felt... safer. Secure enough to reveal her torment. As if Johnne had no control over her now.

 _When did that happen?_

The notion was dangerous and she'd do well to rid herself of it. Her step-father wielded the sort of power which made his reach long and, though he preferred seclusion and anonymity, he did not exactly live far away. Given any excuse, he would rescind her freedom and drag her back into his life.

Defamation of character would definitely provoke him—so her scars needed to remain a taboo subject.

 _I won't mention them again._

Jenna drew a deep breath and tried to relax.

 _I'm just overwhelmed._

The escape from the weird sci-fi lab had been terrifying and finding the flower on the wall which matched her necklace, confusing. On reflection, none of it made her feel safe. What had she done anyway? Just called the number and—

 _My locket!_

Frantically patting around her neck, she came up empty. There was no chain, no pendant. She yanked open the drawer next to the bed, hard enough to remove the entire thing, but her precious necklace was nowhere to be found. Wide-eyed, she peered around the room.

 _Did someone take it?_

Her heart cracked into a thousand little shards. The locket was all she had left of her former life. The inscription her only proof someone had loved her once—before the darkness swallowed her memories.

 _My family certainly didn't and nobody has since..._

Tears welled in her eyes as she fought to recall what might have happened to it. She wore it when she took inventory in the glass prison. She compared it to the flower on the wall in the underground house. Then...

 _What happened after that?_

The door clicked open, interrupting her panic. A woman with red hair and bright green eyes entered the room with a tall, dark-haired man.

"You're awake!" the newcomer exclaimed happily.

It took a beat for Jenna to place her, then she recognized the voice. This was the woman from the other end of the line when she made her frantic phone call. The one who must have braved the sewers to rescue her. The one who, presumably, knew _why_ there was a payphone in the sewers in the first place.

 _Perhaps she knows why I knew where it was. That orderly called her my aunt. I'll play along for a while and see what happens._

"Aunt... April?" she squeaked. The greeting sounded frightened and far too much like a question. Jenna cleared her throat and tried to sound more confident.

"And Uncle..."

She paused for the man to supply his name. The uncle part seemed a safe bet since the two were wearing matching wedding bands and holding hands.

"Casey."

"Right... Uh, Uncle Casey. Hi."

She flinched and hunched as the man leaned in and ruffled her hair. He was big, far too close, and carrying the role of "uncle" farther than she was comfortable with.

A guttural snarl—deep and feral as a wild tiger's—jerked her gaze to the darkness beyond the open window. Her eyes darted back to Casey and April, but neither even glanced in the direction of the sound. In fact, they continued as if they didn't hear it at all.

 _Huh. Imaginary? I am so losing it._

Casey, however, chose that moment to shift away. Jenna watched warily as he moseyed to the end of the room to lean on her footboard before letting out the breath she'd been holding. The distance wouldn't stop his overly familiar tone, but she felt more relaxed with the bed in between them.

"I hear your memories are sorta fuzzy, squirt," he said.

April frowned at him and scooped Jenna's hand off the mattress, but neither of them triggered a flash of color—the sort of shadowy remembrance she had been trusting since the situation began.

"Do you remember what happened after you called me?" April asked.

Her green eyes held nothing but kind concern, so Jenna nodded, then paused and shook her head. She remained woozy, but whether that was from the trauma or the medication she couldn't tell. Whichever it was, she wasn't exactly sure what she should say to whom.

She stared sidelong at each of them and decided to take a chance.

"You are not my relatives," she whispered, removing her hand from April's light hold. "But since you helped me out of the sewers, I'm going to trust you a little. Do you know of a man who calls himself the Shredder?"

 _I hope it's a safe question._

They weren't working with the kidnappers or she would already be back in that lab, not some fancy hospital. And the villain had been solid enough to hurt her so he probably wasn't imaginary.

She needn't have worried. Both adults stiffened at the name, their faces forming nearly identical expressions of dismay.

"I take it you do," Jenna said with a sigh. "Is it safe to talk here?"

April nodded, patting her arm maternally. "You don't need to worry about him, hon. Shredder is gone. He has been for a long time."

Jenna shook her head. "I saw the guy in Central Park yesterday."

"Uh-uh," Casey interjected. "You've been passed out for like three days solid."

April glared at him and Jenna decided it was ok to ignore the snide comment, continuing as if he hadn't interrupted.

"He's big, almost seven feet tall. Wears a metal helmet, half-mask, gauntlets, cape, and body armor with enough bladed hardware on it to qualify as a kitchen utensil."

Casey smirked at the description but Jenna shuddered.

"He had red eyes, a grating voice, and something felt... off about him."

"Sure sounds like the dude we knew. What happened?" Casey asked.

"He attacked me."

"Let's back up a minute, sweetie. Where are you from?" April asked.

Her inflection implied there was more to the question than the simple words suggested, but no matter how she examined it Jenna couldn't see a hidden agenda.

"I live here. In New York, I mean. I have a tiny apartment on the Upper West Side. A loft near 67th street." At April's skeptical glance she added, "Originally, I'm from Illinois?"

Somehow she didn't think that was what the redhead was looking for. Casey, who had been fairly genial up to this point, frowned.

 _They don't believe me._

Jenna abruptly recalled the differences she noticed in the city before she fled from the gang and the distinct feeling the skyline was not 'her' New York.

"How long have you been here?"

Casey's question was fierce. Jenna shrank back.

"About a year," she whispered.

"An' it never occurred to you to let the guys know you were alive?" he sputtered, voice hard and dripping with angry venom. "Geez! Do you even care what they went through after you disappeared and _never came back?"_

Jenna flushed at the unexpected attack.

 _The guys?_

Though she wasn't entirely sure who he was referring to, the words stung. They whipped around, resonating through her thoughts, stirring a flurry of other phrases to the surface of her tired mind. She grasped desperately at the fragments of lost memories. Some were things she had said, others were echos of a voice which nearly made her heart stop.

 _You're too good for me : You only get one sweet 16 : No one has ever done anything like this for me : I wanna be with ya... if you'll have me._

The gruff declaration set her soul on fire.

Pain surged through her and the blackness that veiled her past reared up like a tidal wave. She fought back, swimming against the torrent, achingly close to finally understanding...

 _Could that voice belong to—could he be 'R'?_

She used to dream the author of the message in her locket would come to rescue her. Often wondering why, if someone cared so much, they would leave her suffering and alone.

 _He didn't. Somehow, I was the one who disappeared._

Jenna pressed her fists to her forehead as the voices in her head battered away at the darkness, chipping at the vast wall built, not to protect her but to confine her. She fought with them. Behind the fog lay answers, but she was too sick and tired to break through on her own.

"Lay off her, Case."

A voice—his voice—issued the command threateningly from outside. Jenna jolted upright, eyes flashing wide as her heart ratcheted into high gear.

This time she knew the sound was real. Both her companions jumped.

Casey spun towards the open window, frustration written all over his face. He smacked a palm against the frame.

"A year, Raph. She's been hangin' out in the freakn' city for a YEAR and she never called ya. Not once. She runs into a spot of trouble and she still don't ask ya for help. Instead, she calls April. Maybe that kinda girl don't deserve ya attention."

 _Raph?_

 _JENNA RUN! NOW!_

Adrenaline dumped into her veins at the vast roar. Unable to determine what was a memory, what was imaginary, and what was real—Jenna clamped her hands over her ears and squinched her eyes shut.

"I didn't want to leave!" she shouted in protest at the noise. "He told me to run! I didn't mean to go so far"—Her throat closed. Tears coursed down her cheeks—"I fell! And I don't— I can't— It's all black!"

She rocked back and forth despondently, holding on to sanity by the skin of her teeth.

"The flower," she protested, still attempting to justify her actions, "I called the number in the flower because it matched my necklace, but I can't even prove that. It's gone"—she moaned, a lost and hopeless sound—"Oh love, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's gone!"

A pair of huge hands wrapped around hers, gently removing them from her ears. They dropped to her shoulders and slid down her arms to her elbows squeezing soothingly. They passed her forearms and grasped her wrists turning her hands' palm up.

Cool metal—a chain—pooled in her cupped flesh. A shape she would know anywhere met her grip as the hands closed her fingers tight around the object, then lightly brushed along her cheek before releasing her entirely.

 _My locket!_

"You are my dream," the incredibly intense voice rumbled, "You have my heart. I'm yours forever, whether you rememba' me or not."

Jenna froze, shocked into complete stillness. He had recited the entire phrase from the tiny inscription scrawled inside her pendant as if he meant it, except for the last bit which was drowning in irony. Slowly, she opened her eyes to meet a passionate amber stare.

"I've waited ten long years—dyin' every second cause I didn't tell ya, what I shoulda done the night I gave ya this."

He drew a long breath as if to steady his nerves while her gaze skimmed over him, taking in the green skin; the shell; his mask; and the weapons on his belt. Patiently, he waited until her eyes returned to his.

"I love you, Jenna Williams."


	12. Fractured

**Fractured**

"I'm not sure that was a good idea," April muttered.

Jenna didn't say anything or even move. The confusion in her gleaming eyes tormented Raphael worse than her cries. Her gaze traveled over him again as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Like he was some sort of hallucination. She panted as she fought not to hyperventilate and her expression terrified him.

 _It'd hurt less if Shredder reached inta ma chest and ripped ma heart out._

In essence, he had.

 _Nothin's happenin' the way it should._

Waiting for April and Casey to return and question Jenna had worn at Raphael; left him nothin' to do but think. Led him to second guess his vow—his feelings. Forced him to face a hard truth.

 _If she don't rememba' me... us... I can't tell her I love her. No way in hell would that be right._

Instead, he'd sworn to stay out. Out of her room, out of her sight, out of her life—until such time as her memories could be verified. It would hurt, but...

 _Jenna's alive. It'll have to be enough._

Unfortunately, as in all things dealing with patience, he failed miserably.

 _Casey forced the issue. Couldn't tha' idiot see her shaking?_

The vigilante embodied everything she most feared and the sight of Jenna flinching away from his friend hurt worse than a dozen cattle prods. All his instincts demanded he intervene but the empty years had taught Raphael endurance in the face of pain. He stayed put and merely growled a warning.

The over muscled bone-head hadn't taken it to heart; too wrapped up in his own righteous indignation to understand his rantings did more than frighten Jenna. They triggered a full-blown panic attack Raphael's resolve couldn't hold against.

Every muscle tensed as Jenna's face twisted. He moved before the horrible hoarse protest tore from her throat and faster than the count of three, Raph found himself inside her hospital room.

Leo's indignant command to stay put went unheard as Raphael shoved Casey hard enough he crashed bodily into the wall.

Jenna never looked up. She curled tighter into a pitiful ball and covered her ears; mewling a hopeless little sound which left his soul in tatters.

 _Did she shake like dis when that bastard of a stepfather was cuttin' on her? Did she scream for me? For help that neva' came?_

He couldn't stand it. The appalling keen had to stop before he threw himself on his own sai in despair.

Raph slid his hands down her shoulders in a tender caress, hoping physical contact would break her free of the downward spiral. As her fingers slowly unclenched and her sobs quieted, he racked his brain for another way to soothe her—anything else at all he could do.

 _Her locket. She was desperate for it earlier..._

He dug in his belt pouch then pressed the necklace into her palms. Jenna's shoulders relaxed and her shudders faded. Raphael breathed a sigh of relief as the color came back into her face.

When her gorgeous eyes opened and met his once more, the final piece of his fractured heart clicked back into place. For the first time in years, he felt whole. The words flowed from his lips without thought—for he'd repeated them thousands of times to comfort her ghost.

"I love you, Jenna Williams."

That was how it had all gone wrong.

The curious hope in her gaze melted away to be replaced by complete bewilderment. The longer she stared at him, the more his dread swelled. Her eyes grew round in alarm and his soul began to scream.

The Jenna he knew was lost. Though she sat right in front of him, he was alone.

 _Again._

Tension radiated off his brothers outside where they now perched in his tree. A conflicting series of useless suggestions twittered across their grouped headsets. They argued, debating the harm more mutant exposure would cause Jenna versus the benefit of them physically removing Raph from the room.

April waved a hand, shooing him towards the window like a lost cat. She shifted nearer the bed, ready to quiet the girl's inevitable scream. Casey loitered next to the door, preparing to hold the doctors and nurses at bay until Raph made it out of sight.

 _They all think I should leave._

Raphael stayed put, ignoring the chaos. If he left now, it would be admitting defeat. Acknowledging Jenna was better off without him.

 _I won't abandon her again._

The years of grief, the waiting, the loneliness had to mean something! He had to stay. To believe his presence made a difference in her life. The same difference she made in his—though if she couldn't remember, he must seem a monster.

 _No, damn it! She hasn't lost her mind. I'm in there somewhere. She called my name in the lair._

Breathing deep, he held Jenna's magnetic hazel gaze and remained motionless. Besides, his mutation never bothered her before—not even in the very beginning.

 _I love her! She has to feel that. We're meant for each other, no matter what I look like._

April gasped when Jenna finally shifted, extending a hand towards the green giant kneeling at her bedside.

As if in a dream, the injured girl repeated every motion of the day they met. Her warm fingers grazed Raph's forearm and skimmed upward, lifting to trace the planes of his face, the curve of his cheek, and the thin line of his lips.

 _The only thing missing is the rooftop and the rain..._

Longing flared in his eyes. Something deep in hers answered. Raphael tilted his face into her cupped palm. Jenna let him rest there, releasing a shaky breath as her expression softened. Her other hand reached for the tails of his bandana where they had fallen across his shoulder, letting the soft cloth slide through her fingers.

"R- R- R-"

His brows drew together in concern as she stumbled over his name.

"R- Red," she eventually said, "You were there. On the other side of the glass."

Raphael began to tremble.

"I saw you"—she continued in a quiet voice the others strained to hear—"when I was trapped in that white room. I thought you were imaginary, but I can't touch them—the other things I see." She patted his cheek again. "You're real."

 _Doesn't she remember anything else? What about the lair?_

Unaware of his shaken thoughts, Jenna dropped her hand.

 _No!_

He barely controlled himself, gripping one hand tight with the other to keep from snatching hers back. Robbed of her touch, his gaze followed her petite fingers to her lap. Her hands shook and she pressed them tightly together, wringing them so hard he feared she would injure herself further.

She swayed in her seat. "I should know you. I– I recognized things in your room. An' I keep hearing your voice saying... stuff, but something- Something's wrong," she stuttered. Her gaze darted from April to Casey and back to Raph. "So much of the past is black. I- I'm not sure what's going on. I- I'm not even sure where I am! The cars are different. And some of the buildings. And that man, the Shredder? He brought me here. I hardly got away and now I'm pinned down." She gestured to her leg. "If he comes for me, I can't run!"

"He ain't gonna touch ya," Raph hissed against her hysteria. "Not ever again, ya hear? I won't let him near ya."

"You're still in New York," April chimed in, "Just outside the city. North, in Yonkers. This is a safe place. Private. No one's getting in here."

Jenna shook her head mutely and her nails dug into the skin of her palms.

Raph abruptly reached out and engulfed her trembling hands, separating them with one of his own and squeezing tenderly. She clutched at him like a lifeline, each hand nearly crushing a large finger in a tight grip. He rubbed his thumb lightly over the back of the one closest to him and the constriction of his heart eased a little.

Despite being confused, she trusted him. And she was not the type to give trust easily.

"You believe me? April said he was gone."

"'Course I do! The Shredder's been a pain in the shell for as long as I can remember. Every time we think he's finished he pops back up like a bad penny."

"He- he beat me." She touched her horribly bruised cheek.

"No one's gonna hurt ya' anymore," Raph promised vehemently. "Not while I'm here."

Tears gathered in her eyes as she twitched her leg. "Will I ever be able to walk?" She locked gazes with him, silently pleading for some sort of reassurance.

The question chilled him. He didn't know and the thought of her never joining him on the rooftops again was pure agony. Raph glanced desperately at the window. The others had fallen silent while she spoke but to his relief Donatello promptly answered via the speaker in his ear.

"Her chart reads well. The operations were a success. She's responding to the antibiotics. It'll take time to heal and there will be lots of physical therapy, but yes. She should recover completely."

Raphael closed his eyes briefly in relief.

 _Donnie did this. Insisted she come here. He was right, as usual. I gotta remember ta thank him._

"The docs say you'll make a full recovery. An' don't worry about ol' Shred-head. The next time that bastard crosses my path I'll kill him." He tapped the sai on his belt. "Twenty inches of steel in his gut will be impossible to come back from."

Jenna's gaze darted to the weapon then jerked up to meet his eyes. She turned her left wrist upright in awe to reveal her tattoo. He covered it with his other palm, leaving their hands crossed in a symbol of infinity above the bedspread.

"Yes," he whispered, leaning in to bump his forehead with hers. "That's me."

The Bluetooth headset sprang to life again and Leo's voice came through loud and clear.

"Since she's reacting so well, find out what Shredder planned."

The command practically dripped with disappointment at Raph's actions, but the suggestion was valid. He pulled back so the leader could better observe her reactions.

"Did Shredder say what he wanted with ya? Where he found ya?"

"I was in Central Park. I swear... until I wasn't"—A tear escaped and ran down her cheek—"He said I was the key."

"Ta what?" Casey asked.

She flinched at Casey's voice, but she hadn't so much as leaned away from Raph. The tight band around his heart loosened a little more.

"Revenge. He wanted to use me as bait."

"What did he say, exactly?" Leo demanded.

Raphael made a face but repeated the question.

A shocked silence filled the room as Jenna scrunched up her face into an expression of hatred and growled, "You will bring him crawling to me, begging on his knees for your release."

"I thought he was insane," she continued in a more normal voice. "I didn't have a chance to tell him no one cares that much about me, I—"

Raphael cut her off with a snarl as rage and guilt devoured him by turns. Regret because she was still somehow caught up in their war and indignation at her casual denial of his devotion.

 _How could she even think that?_

Jenna stared at him with wild eyes and he immediately swallowed his anger.

 _None a'this is her fault. She doesn't remember, but she deserves to know._

Raphael's teenage self would never reveal such things, but that Raph died the day Jenna disappeared. Since she was home, he felt reborn. This time he wouldn't waste a single opportunity to show her his feelings. He released one hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles in the lightest of caresses.

"I care," he murmured. "An' he was right in a twisted sorta' way. If I couldn't rescue ya, I'd have kneeled ta guarantee your freedom. I'da' done anything he wanted ta keep ya safe."

Jenna's mouth dropped open and his eyes focused on her full lower lip. It begged to be touched—to be kissed so she couldn't doubt his words—but he didn't dare. Admitting feelings was one thing, but it would be quite another to force himself on a fragile young woman.

"Ya make me nervous sayin' things like that, man," Casey interrupted. "Ya can't give in to the Foot. You guys have always been the only thing standing between them and the whole of New York."

"An' look what it's done to us!" Raphael spat, rounding on him angrily.

"It wouldn't have happened," April said, trying to placate them and head off an argument. "The family"—she glanced significantly at the window—"would have stepped in."

"The family?" Jenna repeated. "You guys?" She stared out as well, squinting her eyes to penetrate the darkness. "There are more of you out there?"

Raph nodded and moved his hand, uncovering her tattoo and rubbing his thumb over the three remaining weapons depicted there.

 _God, her skin is softer than I remember._

"My bros. We're watching over this place. Makin' sure the bad guys stay away."

"Are they- like you?"

Again he nodded.

"And I knew them all?"

"You were friends."

"Friends shouldn't hang outside."

"I'm sure they'll be in eventually. We didn't wanna stress ya' out, ya know?"

"Four humanoid turtles crammed into a small hospital room? What's stressful about that?"

Raphael actually chuckled and she shot him a faint smile. He could have predicted she'd say something like that. Perhaps his Jenna wasn't lost after all.

 _She's just hidin' somewhere._

He patted her hand.

 _I'll find ya', love, and take on whatever's keepin' ya in the dark._

This, at last, was a resolution he could keep.

 _'Cause if there's one thing a ninja knows, it's how to search the shadows..._


End file.
